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957: How To Hide In Vienna Father Francis Wahle Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Father Francis Wahle came to Britain from Vienna on a Kindertransport. His mother and father, an ex-judge, remained in Vienna: At school, letter-writing was timetabled: once a week. But from 1942 onwards there were no letters in reply because on May 1, 1942, my parents went underground. The Gestapo came to get them. Both Francis's parents had converted to Catholicism before he was born but Nazis still considered the family Jewish. My father happened to be out of the flat. My mother was there. She got her handbag & simply walked down the stairs as they were coming up to get her, muttered something about a hell of a to do in the house today, & just left. They'd obviously made provisions beforehand in distributing their belongings as far as they could & having arranged the place to meet in a case like this. From then on, they were non-persons. They couldn't use their identities. No home, no place to actually spend a night in; couldn't spend it in the open because the winter is too hard in Vienna, & secondly, because if you were found in the open, what excuse is there? They had no ration cards, no money, no earning. They experimented a little bit. My mother came up with the idea of spinning a yarn that she was a married woman, married to a policeman, but having an affair with my father who was living outside Vienna but coming in to visit her regularly once a week, & they needed a place where they could spend the night together. And for heaven's sake were they not reported to the police because her husband being a policeman that would wreck her marriage. That story was spun perfectly for the Viennese mentality; sentimental, romantic. With this yarn, they went from landlady to landlady. The more the landlady was a Nazi, the better; it's safer. My mother wasn't shy. She started private tuition in people's homes. It didn't matter whether she knew the subject, provided she was one lesson ahead of the child. And it meant that she was warm during the day. Occasionally she was given rations- either fed or given some ration, so they had something. Also, in restaurants there were one or two watery soups & things like that which you could get without ration. They'd go to those places where the Gestapo also ate because that was the safest place. Once you got yourself established as part of the furniture, they would never dream of having a razzia in that restaurant. It was their base. So, they would meet also in places which had two exits, like churches. If they saw somebody suspicious coming in at one, they would, not hurriedly but just gradually, move to the other exit. Then, identity. My mother's name, Brunner, is very nondistinctive. So she never even changed her maiden name. My father knew that if anybody recognised him from his acquaintances & called him by his name, he would react, so he had to have a name which sounded like Wahle, so Taler, Maler, something "a, e". You could get travel cards for trams & buses. He'd give a name & address which was actually taken from the telephone book. My father suddenly realised—the penny dropped—that as he was now hunted, he was an outlaw. Although he was a judge who had to keep the law & make certain other people kept the law, he was no longer a judge. He was able to tell lies, cheat, because this is an illegitimate government. My mother did some smuggling, all sorts of things. They once spent the night in a brothel. The police raided it, they were taken into custody & released the following day. My mother said, "Give me back my money & jewellery". Far more suspicious if she hadn't brazened it out. They loved it when there was an air raid because then they could get to the shelters where there was no control & they were safe. But for three solid years, watching your back the whole time. It's amazing that they survived. It's a miracle. They had some very narrow squeaks. Their tremendous bravery: not giving in, not saying we can't fight against this huge organisation. My mother said: "they're not as efficient as they portray themselves to be & we've got no other option. We've just got to go and... fight for the children as much as anything. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Father Francis Wahle's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2019 • Learn More → Father Francis Wahle Converted To Christianity Encounter With Nazi Officials Hiding In Plain Sight In Hiding Near Escape Nerves of Steel Resistance Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Austria Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

982: Not Dwelling On Things Gerta Regensburger came to Britain in 1939 via a Belgium Kindertransport: Gerta Regensburger 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 Gerta Regensburger's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, July 2024 • Learn More → Gerta Regensburger Kindertransport Kindertransport To Belgium Not Remembering Recovery Staying With Strangers The AJR Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts England See Locations Full Text Gerta Regensburger came to Britain in 1939 via a Belgium Kindertransport: I have no feelings & not many memories. I’m not a very retrospective person. It always amazes me that so many people remember every—cross every 't' & dot every 'i'. Not me. Opposite our flat in Berlin was a children’s playground with a sandpit. I do remember clearly they had yellow benches where Jews were not allowed to sit. In 1933, when I was 5, we went to France for 6 months, to Nice. I remember my 6 months in Nice where I had my appendix out. I always remember that [laughs]. The family returned to Berlin. Gerta was 10 when she went alone to Belgium in February 1939: I seem to remember doing some crying. Belgium was not a happy period. The families I stayed with first were terrible. So I went back to Brussels to stay a little while with my aunt. Then I went somewhere else, & then – it’s all very vague. In August 1939 Gerta came to London to join her mother & brother. I can’t remember arriving. I can't remember if I spoke any English, I suppose I must have learnt it. The family settled in Harrow but were forced to move in 1940: Harrow became what was known as a protected area. No bloody foreigners. Northolt Airport was not very far. My mother was sent to tribunal. She made the best category. She went to live in London & had various jobs in hotels so that she had accommodation. Then she had this job as a housekeeper in Epsom to a very, very nice family with whom we remained friends until they both died. I didn’t see my mother much during the War really. I was under 16 so because of school I stayed on with my guardian Miss Hollingsworth & then others in Harrow. I was very grateful. I slept for a time in what they called these shelters. Indoor metal shelters, like a cage. No special fuss was made of me at school. There were no other Jewish girls there. I don’t dwell on the past. I don’t have the obsession. The past is the past. If it makes people happy, fine. But it’s not my scene. I live in the present. I don’t need to harp back to what was. Gerta became a teacher, a secretary, an editor & a proofreader. She worked at the Wiener Library for many years & for The AJR, proofreading its Journal: I have an eagle-eye. The strange thing is one’s own mistakes one misses. But other people’s mistakes I beam in on. Today Gerta's flat is still full of her family furniture from Germany: I’ve always enjoyed that very much, having that. And my teddy bear. But he was actually my mother’s teddy bear, he’s sitting up there on top of my bookshelf. He came with her from Germany. He survived. He was a little poorly so I had him patched up a little. When I’m lying in bed I look at him. He never had a name. I'm very fond of him. There’s also a little French doll—which is disintegrating entirely, he’s called Armand—which I was given when I had my appendix out. My message to the future is: just keep on going. I have no idea what helped me create a new life in the UK. Sanity [laughs]? Ordinariness. Can’t tell you. How does one know that about oneself? I’m a fairly organised person. And I don't like to dwell on things. 982: Not Dwelling On Things Gerta Regensburger Adapted from Gerta Regensburger's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, July 2024 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Gerta Regensburger came to Britain in 1939 via a Belgium Kindertransport: I have no feelings & not many memories. I’m not a very retrospective person. It always amazes me that so many people remember every—cross every 't' & dot every 'i'. Not me. Opposite our flat in Berlin was a children’s playground with a sandpit. I do remember clearly they had yellow benches where Jews were not allowed to sit. In 1933, when I was 5, we went to France for 6 months, to Nice. I remember my 6 months in Nice where I had my appendix out. I always remember that [laughs]. The family returned to Berlin. Gerta was 10 when she went alone to Belgium in February 1939: I seem to remember doing some crying. Belgium was not a happy period. The families I stayed with first were terrible. So I went back to Brussels to stay a little while with my aunt. Then I went somewhere else, & then – it’s all very vague. In August 1939 Gerta came to London to join her mother & brother. I can’t remember arriving. I can't remember if I spoke any English, I suppose I must have learnt it. The family settled in Harrow but were forced to move in 1940: Harrow became what was known as a protected area. No bloody foreigners. Northolt Airport was not very far. My mother was sent to tribunal. She made the best category. She went to live in London & had various jobs in hotels so that she had accommodation. Then she had this job as a housekeeper in Epsom to a very, very nice family with whom we remained friends until they both died. I didn’t see my mother much during the War really. I was under 16 so because of school I stayed on with my guardian Miss Hollingsworth & then others in Harrow. I was very grateful. I slept for a time in what they called these shelters. Indoor metal shelters, like a cage. No special fuss was made of me at school. There were no other Jewish girls there. I don’t dwell on the past. I don’t have the obsession. The past is the past. If it makes people happy, fine. But it’s not my scene. I live in the present. I don’t need to harp back to what was. Gerta became a teacher, a secretary, an editor & a proofreader. She worked at the Wiener Library for many years & for The AJR, proofreading its Journal: I have an eagle-eye. The strange thing is one’s own mistakes one misses. But other people’s mistakes I beam in on. Today Gerta's flat is still full of her family furniture from Germany: I’ve always enjoyed that very much, having that. And my teddy bear. But he was actually my mother’s teddy bear, he’s sitting up there on top of my bookshelf. He came with her from Germany. He survived. He was a little poorly so I had him patched up a little. When I’m lying in bed I look at him. He never had a name. I'm very fond of him. There’s also a little French doll—which is disintegrating entirely, he’s called Armand—which I was given when I had my appendix out. My message to the future is: just keep on going. I have no idea what helped me create a new life in the UK. Sanity [laughs]? Ordinariness. Can’t tell you. How does one know that about oneself? I’m a fairly organised person. And I don't like to dwell on things. 982: Not Dwelling On Things Gerta Regensburger 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 982: Not Dwelling On Things ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Gerta Regensburger Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Gerta Regensburger's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, July 2024 • Learn More → Gerta Regensburger Kindertransport Kindertransport To Belgium Not Remembering Recovery Staying With Strangers The AJR Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts England See Locations Full Text Gerta Regensburger came to Britain in 1939 via a Belgium Kindertransport: I have no feelings & not many memories. I’m not a very retrospective person. It always amazes me that so many people remember every—cross every 't' & dot every 'i'. Not me. Opposite our flat in Berlin was a children’s playground with a sandpit. I do remember clearly they had yellow benches where Jews were not allowed to sit. In 1933, when I was 5, we went to France for 6 months, to Nice. I remember my 6 months in Nice where I had my appendix out. I always remember that [laughs]. The family returned to Berlin. Gerta was 10 when she went alone to Belgium in February 1939: I seem to remember doing some crying. Belgium was not a happy period. The families I stayed with first were terrible. So I went back to Brussels to stay a little while with my aunt. Then I went somewhere else, & then – it’s all very vague. In August 1939 Gerta came to London to join her mother & brother. I can’t remember arriving. I can't remember if I spoke any English, I suppose I must have learnt it. The family settled in Harrow but were forced to move in 1940: Harrow became what was known as a protected area. No bloody foreigners. Northolt Airport was not very far. My mother was sent to tribunal. She made the best category. She went to live in London & had various jobs in hotels so that she had accommodation. Then she had this job as a housekeeper in Epsom to a very, very nice family with whom we remained friends until they both died. I didn’t see my mother much during the War really. I was under 16 so because of school I stayed on with my guardian Miss Hollingsworth & then others in Harrow. I was very grateful. I slept for a time in what they called these shelters. Indoor metal shelters, like a cage. No special fuss was made of me at school. There were no other Jewish girls there. I don’t dwell on the past. I don’t have the obsession. The past is the past. If it makes people happy, fine. But it’s not my scene. I live in the present. I don’t need to harp back to what was. Gerta became a teacher, a secretary, an editor & a proofreader. She worked at the Wiener Library for many years & for The AJR, proofreading its Journal: I have an eagle-eye. The strange thing is one’s own mistakes one misses. But other people’s mistakes I beam in on. Today Gerta's flat is still full of her family furniture from Germany: I’ve always enjoyed that very much, having that. And my teddy bear. But he was actually my mother’s teddy bear, he’s sitting up there on top of my bookshelf. He came with her from Germany. He survived. He was a little poorly so I had him patched up a little. When I’m lying in bed I look at him. He never had a name. I'm very fond of him. There’s also a little French doll—which is disintegrating entirely, he’s called Armand—which I was given when I had my appendix out. My message to the future is: just keep on going. I have no idea what helped me create a new life in the UK. Sanity [laughs]? Ordinariness. Can’t tell you. How does one know that about oneself? I’m a fairly organised person. And I don't like to dwell on things. 982: Not Dwelling On Things Gerta Regensburger Adapted from Gerta Regensburger's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, July 2024 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

982: Not Dwelling On Things Gerta Regensburger Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Gerta Regensburger came to Britain in 1939 via a Belgium Kindertransport: I have no feelings & not many memories. I’m not a very retrospective person. It always amazes me that so many people remember every—cross every 't' & dot every 'i'. Not me. Opposite our flat in Berlin was a children’s playground with a sandpit. I do remember clearly they had yellow benches where Jews were not allowed to sit. In 1933, when I was 5, we went to France for 6 months, to Nice. I remember my 6 months in Nice where I had my appendix out. I always remember that [laughs]. The family returned to Berlin. Gerta was 10 when she went alone to Belgium in February 1939: I seem to remember doing some crying. Belgium was not a happy period. The families I stayed with first were terrible. So I went back to Brussels to stay a little while with my aunt. Then I went somewhere else, & then – it’s all very vague. In August 1939 Gerta came to London to join her mother & brother. I can’t remember arriving. I can't remember if I spoke any English, I suppose I must have learnt it. The family settled in Harrow but were forced to move in 1940: Harrow became what was known as a protected area. No bloody foreigners. Northolt Airport was not very far. My mother was sent to tribunal. She made the best category. She went to live in London & had various jobs in hotels so that she had accommodation. Then she had this job as a housekeeper in Epsom to a very, very nice family with whom we remained friends until they both died. I didn’t see my mother much during the War really. I was under 16 so because of school I stayed on with my guardian Miss Hollingsworth & then others in Harrow. I was very grateful. I slept for a time in what they called these shelters. Indoor metal shelters, like a cage. No special fuss was made of me at school. There were no other Jewish girls there. I don’t dwell on the past. I don’t have the obsession. The past is the past. If it makes people happy, fine. But it’s not my scene. I live in the present. I don’t need to harp back to what was. Gerta became a teacher, a secretary, an editor & a proofreader. She worked at the Wiener Library for many years & for The AJR, proofreading its Journal: I have an eagle-eye. The strange thing is one’s own mistakes one misses. But other people’s mistakes I beam in on. Today Gerta's flat is still full of her family furniture from Germany: I’ve always enjoyed that very much, having that. And my teddy bear. But he was actually my mother’s teddy bear, he’s sitting up there on top of my bookshelf. He came with her from Germany. He survived. He was a little poorly so I had him patched up a little. When I’m lying in bed I look at him. He never had a name. I'm very fond of him. There’s also a little French doll—which is disintegrating entirely, he’s called Armand—which I was given when I had my appendix out. My message to the future is: just keep on going. I have no idea what helped me create a new life in the UK. Sanity [laughs]? Ordinariness. Can’t tell you. How does one know that about oneself? I’m a fairly organised person. And I don't like to dwell on things. Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Gerta Regensburger's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, July 2024 • Learn More → Gerta Regensburger Kindertransport Kindertransport To Belgium Not Remembering Recovery Staying With Strangers The AJR Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts England Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

Father Francis Wahle came to Britain from Vienna on a Kindertransport. His mother and father, an ex-judge, remained in Vienna: At school, letter-writing was timetabled: once a week. But from 1942 onwards there were no letters in reply because on May 1, 1942, my parents went underground. The Gestapo came to get them. Both Francis's parents had converted to Catholicism before he was born but Nazis still considered the family Jewish. My father happened to be out of the flat. My mother was there. She got her handbag & simply walked down the stairs as they were coming up to get her, muttered something about a hell of a to do in the house today, & just left. They'd obviously made provisions beforehand in distributing their belongings as far as they could & having arranged the place to meet in a case like this. From then on, they were non-persons. They couldn't use their identities. No home, no place to actually spend a night in; couldn't spend it in the open because the winter is too hard in Vienna, & secondly, because if you were found in the open, what excuse is there? They had no ration cards, no money, no earning. They experimented a little bit. My mother came up with the idea of spinning a yarn that she was a married woman, married to a policeman, but having an affair with my father who was living outside Vienna but coming in to visit her regularly once a week, & they needed a place where they could spend the night together. And for heaven's sake were they not reported to the police because her husband being a policeman that would wreck her marriage. That story was spun perfectly for the Viennese mentality; sentimental, romantic. With this yarn, they went from landlady to landlady. The more the landlady was a Nazi, the better; it's safer. My mother wasn't shy. She started private tuition in people's homes. It didn't matter whether she knew the subject, provided she was one lesson ahead of the child. And it meant that she was warm during the day. Occasionally she was given rations- either fed or given some ration, so they had something. Also, in restaurants there were one or two watery soups & things like that which you could get without ration. They'd go to those places where the Gestapo also ate because that was the safest place. Once you got yourself established as part of the furniture, they would never dream of having a razzia in that restaurant. It was their base. So, they would meet also in places which had two exits, like churches. If they saw somebody suspicious coming in at one, they would, not hurriedly but just gradually, move to the other exit. Then, identity. My mother's name, Brunner, is very nondistinctive. So she never even changed her maiden name. My father knew that if anybody recognised him from his acquaintances & called him by his name, he would react, so he had to have a name which sounded like Wahle, so Taler, Maler, something "a, e". You could get travel cards for trams & buses. He'd give a name & address which was actually taken from the telephone book. My father suddenly realised—the penny dropped—that as he was now hunted, he was an outlaw. Although he was a judge who had to keep the law & make certain other people kept the law, he was no longer a judge. He was able to tell lies, cheat, because this is an illegitimate government. My mother did some smuggling, all sorts of things. They once spent the night in a brothel. The police raided it, they were taken into custody & released the following day. My mother said, "Give me back my money & jewellery". Far more suspicious if she hadn't brazened it out. They loved it when there was an air raid because then they could get to the shelters where there was no control & they were safe. But for three solid years, watching your back the whole time. It's amazing that they survived. It's a miracle. They had some very narrow squeaks. Their tremendous bravery: not giving in, not saying we can't fight against this huge organisation. My mother said: "they're not as efficient as they portray themselves to be & we've got no other option. We've just got to go and... fight for the children as much as anything. 957: How To Hide In Vienna Father Francis Wahle 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 957: How To Hide In Vienna ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Father Francis Wahle Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Father Francis Wahle's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2019 • Learn More → Father Francis Wahle Converted To Christianity Encounter With Nazi Officials Hiding In Plain Sight In Hiding Near Escape Nerves of Steel Resistance Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Austria See Locations Full Text Father Francis Wahle came to Britain from Vienna on a Kindertransport. His mother and father, an ex-judge, remained in Vienna: At school, letter-writing was timetabled: once a week. But from 1942 onwards there were no letters in reply because on May 1, 1942, my parents went underground. The Gestapo came to get them. Both Francis's parents had converted to Catholicism before he was born but Nazis still considered the family Jewish. My father happened to be out of the flat. My mother was there. She got her handbag & simply walked down the stairs as they were coming up to get her, muttered something about a hell of a to do in the house today, & just left. They'd obviously made provisions beforehand in distributing their belongings as far as they could & having arranged the place to meet in a case like this. From then on, they were non-persons. They couldn't use their identities. No home, no place to actually spend a night in; couldn't spend it in the open because the winter is too hard in Vienna, & secondly, because if you were found in the open, what excuse is there? They had no ration cards, no money, no earning. They experimented a little bit. My mother came up with the idea of spinning a yarn that she was a married woman, married to a policeman, but having an affair with my father who was living outside Vienna but coming in to visit her regularly once a week, & they needed a place where they could spend the night together. And for heaven's sake were they not reported to the police because her husband being a policeman that would wreck her marriage. That story was spun perfectly for the Viennese mentality; sentimental, romantic. With this yarn, they went from landlady to landlady. The more the landlady was a Nazi, the better; it's safer. My mother wasn't shy. She started private tuition in people's homes. It didn't matter whether she knew the subject, provided she was one lesson ahead of the child. And it meant that she was warm during the day. Occasionally she was given rations- either fed or given some ration, so they had something. Also, in restaurants there were one or two watery soups & things like that which you could get without ration. They'd go to those places where the Gestapo also ate because that was the safest place. Once you got yourself established as part of the furniture, they would never dream of having a razzia in that restaurant. It was their base. So, they would meet also in places which had two exits, like churches. If they saw somebody suspicious coming in at one, they would, not hurriedly but just gradually, move to the other exit. Then, identity. My mother's name, Brunner, is very nondistinctive. So she never even changed her maiden name. My father knew that if anybody recognised him from his acquaintances & called him by his name, he would react, so he had to have a name which sounded like Wahle, so Taler, Maler, something "a, e". You could get travel cards for trams & buses. He'd give a name & address which was actually taken from the telephone book. My father suddenly realised—the penny dropped—that as he was now hunted, he was an outlaw. Although he was a judge who had to keep the law & make certain other people kept the law, he was no longer a judge. He was able to tell lies, cheat, because this is an illegitimate government. My mother did some smuggling, all sorts of things. They once spent the night in a brothel. The police raided it, they were taken into custody & released the following day. My mother said, "Give me back my money & jewellery". Far more suspicious if she hadn't brazened it out. They loved it when there was an air raid because then they could get to the shelters where there was no control & they were safe. But for three solid years, watching your back the whole time. It's amazing that they survived. It's a miracle. They had some very narrow squeaks. Their tremendous bravery: not giving in, not saying we can't fight against this huge organisation. My mother said: "they're not as efficient as they portray themselves to be & we've got no other option. We've just got to go and... fight for the children as much as anything. 957: How To Hide In Vienna Father Francis Wahle Edited from Father Francis Wahle's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2019 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

957: How To Hide In Vienna Father Francis Wahle came to Britain from Vienna on a Kindertransport. His mother and father, an ex-judge, remained in Vienna: Father Francis Wahle 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 Father Francis Wahle's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2019 • Learn More → Father Francis Wahle Converted To Christianity Encounter With Nazi Officials Hiding In Plain Sight In Hiding Near Escape Nerves of Steel Resistance Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Austria See Locations Full Text Father Francis Wahle came to Britain from Vienna on a Kindertransport. His mother and father, an ex-judge, remained in Vienna: At school, letter-writing was timetabled: once a week. But from 1942 onwards there were no letters in reply because on May 1, 1942, my parents went underground. The Gestapo came to get them. Both Francis's parents had converted to Catholicism before he was born but Nazis still considered the family Jewish. My father happened to be out of the flat. My mother was there. She got her handbag & simply walked down the stairs as they were coming up to get her, muttered something about a hell of a to do in the house today, & just left. They'd obviously made provisions beforehand in distributing their belongings as far as they could & having arranged the place to meet in a case like this. From then on, they were non-persons. They couldn't use their identities. No home, no place to actually spend a night in; couldn't spend it in the open because the winter is too hard in Vienna, & secondly, because if you were found in the open, what excuse is there? They had no ration cards, no money, no earning. They experimented a little bit. My mother came up with the idea of spinning a yarn that she was a married woman, married to a policeman, but having an affair with my father who was living outside Vienna but coming in to visit her regularly once a week, & they needed a place where they could spend the night together. And for heaven's sake were they not reported to the police because her husband being a policeman that would wreck her marriage. That story was spun perfectly for the Viennese mentality; sentimental, romantic. With this yarn, they went from landlady to landlady. The more the landlady was a Nazi, the better; it's safer. My mother wasn't shy. She started private tuition in people's homes. It didn't matter whether she knew the subject, provided she was one lesson ahead of the child. And it meant that she was warm during the day. Occasionally she was given rations- either fed or given some ration, so they had something. Also, in restaurants there were one or two watery soups & things like that which you could get without ration. They'd go to those places where the Gestapo also ate because that was the safest place. Once you got yourself established as part of the furniture, they would never dream of having a razzia in that restaurant. It was their base. So, they would meet also in places which had two exits, like churches. If they saw somebody suspicious coming in at one, they would, not hurriedly but just gradually, move to the other exit. Then, identity. My mother's name, Brunner, is very nondistinctive. So she never even changed her maiden name. My father knew that if anybody recognised him from his acquaintances & called him by his name, he would react, so he had to have a name which sounded like Wahle, so Taler, Maler, something "a, e". You could get travel cards for trams & buses. He'd give a name & address which was actually taken from the telephone book. My father suddenly realised—the penny dropped—that as he was now hunted, he was an outlaw. Although he was a judge who had to keep the law & make certain other people kept the law, he was no longer a judge. He was able to tell lies, cheat, because this is an illegitimate government. My mother did some smuggling, all sorts of things. They once spent the night in a brothel. The police raided it, they were taken into custody & released the following day. My mother said, "Give me back my money & jewellery". Far more suspicious if she hadn't brazened it out. They loved it when there was an air raid because then they could get to the shelters where there was no control & they were safe. But for three solid years, watching your back the whole time. It's amazing that they survived. It's a miracle. They had some very narrow squeaks. Their tremendous bravery: not giving in, not saying we can't fight against this huge organisation. My mother said: "they're not as efficient as they portray themselves to be & we've got no other option. We've just got to go and... fight for the children as much as anything. 957: How To Hide In Vienna Father Francis Wahle Edited from Father Francis Wahle's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2019 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

959: The Invasion Of Hungary George Donath Credits & tags Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close George Donath, born in Ujpest, Hungary, was 13 on May 18, 1944 when Germany invaded Hungary: The 19th of March 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. Black uniformed soldiers got out. I don’t think we realised they were Gestapo. They went into a couple of houses, dragged out three Jewish industrialists, left us alone. Then Jewish legislation starts coming in. First thing is Yellow Stars. So we all put on the Yellow Star. More people have to go into forced labour, so my father under fifty, is called up & taken away. We have to move into a certain district & put a big Yellow Star on the entrance to the flat. Then the deportations started. There were attempts made by the Germans to mislead us. We were taken to a place they called kenyérmesö [bread fields]. They organised masses of postcards, always the same text: “We are fine, send you our regards.” No postage stamp. It was childish but people believed it. My father was in this camp. My mother heard it was us next. So she organised a country gentleman to pick us up during the night & take us into hiding in the countryside. This was the end of June. She gave this man a certain amount of money. We were waiting at the gate. We stood & stood, but he didn't come. He kept the money, nice. The next morning the Hungarian gendarmes—it was the gendarmes who did the deportations. The SS were just not visible. The gendarmerie were the country police, dressed very distinctively: cock feathers in their cap, carrying guns and so on. They came for us. And marched us out. The railway station was in a place called Rákospalota, a nice little walk of maybe 5km. We had this audience on either side, having a good time. We get there & there are the wagons. We’ve got numbers, up to 80. My mother ends up, number 80, into the wagon. My sister & I, are out! Into the next wagon. So my mother, I don’t know how, got out. And screams that she’s not going to be separated from her children. And the gendarm rendör [patrolman] hits her with the back of the gun. And she says: 'You can beat me to death, you can shoot me,' nothing doing. She won. So all three of us got into the next wagon. After a few hours, we ended up in a brick factory in Budakalász. There were 25,000 Jews there. A brick factory is an ideal place for this sort of thing, because whilst there is cover. it is also open. So they could supervise us. There was one single SS there. All the others were Hungarian gendarmes. At night, there were lights playing, not to let us sleep. To reduce resistance. We were there for five nights, during the first bombing of Budapest. We loved seeing the bombs. The next morning the wagons were ready, & we’re going to be put into the wagons. But then six names circulated in the camp. Ours is one. So we reported. We spent a day in a central place surrounded by stones, watching people being loaded into wagons. There was another sight: a tanner called Lajos Kaufer. A big strong man but very short-sighted, almost blind. One of the gendarmes pushed him so he turned round. He was shot instantly. There & then. Probably the best thing that happened to him, but a dreadful sight. Anyway. I was never actually frightened. My mother wasn’t frightened either. She had fear. I was very nervous apparently at one point but I had a strange faith – [with emotion] in my mother. That she will look after us. Which she did. All of a sudden a lorry comes. We are told to get in with about sixty people. No gendarmes but an SS. We realise that we are going into town. Next thing we know we arrive at the Jewish Deaf and Dumb Institute. We go into the back entrance and there are hundreds of people there. We get off & they say: 'Congratulations you are here'. Through my mother's connections we were saved. To her dying day, my mother blamed herself for not taking another half-dozen children that were not hers. But who the hell thinks? Previous Memory Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from George Donath's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2019 • Learn More → George Donath Deported Encounter With Nazi Officials Forced Labour Near Escape Yellow Star Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Hungary Text adapted & edited by Susanna Kleeman See Locations Facebook & Instagram Posts

George Donath, born in Ujpest, Hungary, was 13 on May 18, 1944 when Germany invaded Hungary: The 19th of March 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. Black uniformed soldiers got out. I don’t think we realised they were Gestapo. They went into a couple of houses, dragged out three Jewish industrialists, left us alone. Then Jewish legislation starts coming in. First thing is Yellow Stars. So we all put on the Yellow Star. More people have to go into forced labour, so my father under fifty, is called up & taken away. We have to move into a certain district & put a big Yellow Star on the entrance to the flat. Then the deportations started. There were attempts made by the Germans to mislead us. We were taken to a place they called kenyérmesö [bread fields]. They organised masses of postcards, always the same text: “We are fine, send you our regards.” No postage stamp. It was childish but people believed it. My father was in this camp. My mother heard it was us next. So she organised a country gentleman to pick us up during the night & take us into hiding in the countryside. This was the end of June. She gave this man a certain amount of money. We were waiting at the gate. We stood & stood, but he didn't come. He kept the money, nice. The next morning the Hungarian gendarmes—it was the gendarmes who did the deportations. The SS were just not visible. The gendarmerie were the country police, dressed very distinctively: cock feathers in their cap, carrying guns and so on. They came for us. And marched us out. The railway station was in a place called Rákospalota, a nice little walk of maybe 5km. We had this audience on either side, having a good time. We get there & there are the wagons. We’ve got numbers, up to 80. My mother ends up, number 80, into the wagon. My sister & I, are out! Into the next wagon. So my mother, I don’t know how, got out. And screams that she’s not going to be separated from her children. And the gendarm rendör [patrolman] hits her with the back of the gun. And she says: 'You can beat me to death, you can shoot me,' nothing doing. She won. So all three of us got into the next wagon. After a few hours, we ended up in a brick factory in Budakalász. There were 25,000 Jews there. A brick factory is an ideal place for this sort of thing, because whilst there is cover. it is also open. So they could supervise us. There was one single SS there. All the others were Hungarian gendarmes. At night, there were lights playing, not to let us sleep. To reduce resistance. We were there for five nights, during the first bombing of Budapest. We loved seeing the bombs. The next morning the wagons were ready, & we’re going to be put into the wagons. But then six names circulated in the camp. Ours is one. So we reported. We spent a day in a central place surrounded by stones, watching people being loaded into wagons. There was another sight: a tanner called Lajos Kaufer. A big strong man but very short-sighted, almost blind. One of the gendarmes pushed him so he turned round. He was shot instantly. There & then. Probably the best thing that happened to him, but a dreadful sight. Anyway. I was never actually frightened. My mother wasn’t frightened either. She had fear. I was very nervous apparently at one point but I had a strange faith – [with emotion] in my mother. That she will look after us. Which she did. All of a sudden a lorry comes. We are told to get in with about sixty people. No gendarmes but an SS. We realise that we are going into town. Next thing we know we arrive at the Jewish Deaf and Dumb Institute. We go into the back entrance and there are hundreds of people there. We get off & they say: 'Congratulations you are here'. Through my mother's connections we were saved. To her dying day, my mother blamed herself for not taking another half-dozen children that were not hers. But who the hell thinks? 959: The Invasion Of Hungary George Donath 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 959: The Invasion Of Hungary ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → George Donath Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from George Donath's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2019 • Learn More → George Donath Deported Encounter With Nazi Officials Forced Labour Near Escape Yellow Star Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Hungary See Locations Full Text George Donath, born in Ujpest, Hungary, was 13 on May 18, 1944 when Germany invaded Hungary: The 19th of March 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. Black uniformed soldiers got out. I don’t think we realised they were Gestapo. They went into a couple of houses, dragged out three Jewish industrialists, left us alone. Then Jewish legislation starts coming in. First thing is Yellow Stars. So we all put on the Yellow Star. More people have to go into forced labour, so my father under fifty, is called up & taken away. We have to move into a certain district & put a big Yellow Star on the entrance to the flat. Then the deportations started. There were attempts made by the Germans to mislead us. We were taken to a place they called kenyérmesö [bread fields]. They organised masses of postcards, always the same text: “We are fine, send you our regards.” No postage stamp. It was childish but people believed it. My father was in this camp. My mother heard it was us next. So she organised a country gentleman to pick us up during the night & take us into hiding in the countryside. This was the end of June. She gave this man a certain amount of money. We were waiting at the gate. We stood & stood, but he didn't come. He kept the money, nice. The next morning the Hungarian gendarmes—it was the gendarmes who did the deportations. The SS were just not visible. The gendarmerie were the country police, dressed very distinctively: cock feathers in their cap, carrying guns and so on. They came for us. And marched us out. The railway station was in a place called Rákospalota, a nice little walk of maybe 5km. We had this audience on either side, having a good time. We get there & there are the wagons. We’ve got numbers, up to 80. My mother ends up, number 80, into the wagon. My sister & I, are out! Into the next wagon. So my mother, I don’t know how, got out. And screams that she’s not going to be separated from her children. And the gendarm rendör [patrolman] hits her with the back of the gun. And she says: 'You can beat me to death, you can shoot me,' nothing doing. She won. So all three of us got into the next wagon. After a few hours, we ended up in a brick factory in Budakalász. There were 25,000 Jews there. A brick factory is an ideal place for this sort of thing, because whilst there is cover. it is also open. So they could supervise us. There was one single SS there. All the others were Hungarian gendarmes. At night, there were lights playing, not to let us sleep. To reduce resistance. We were there for five nights, during the first bombing of Budapest. We loved seeing the bombs. The next morning the wagons were ready, & we’re going to be put into the wagons. But then six names circulated in the camp. Ours is one. So we reported. We spent a day in a central place surrounded by stones, watching people being loaded into wagons. There was another sight: a tanner called Lajos Kaufer. A big strong man but very short-sighted, almost blind. One of the gendarmes pushed him so he turned round. He was shot instantly. There & then. Probably the best thing that happened to him, but a dreadful sight. Anyway. I was never actually frightened. My mother wasn’t frightened either. She had fear. I was very nervous apparently at one point but I had a strange faith – [with emotion] in my mother. That she will look after us. Which she did. All of a sudden a lorry comes. We are told to get in with about sixty people. No gendarmes but an SS. We realise that we are going into town. Next thing we know we arrive at the Jewish Deaf and Dumb Institute. We go into the back entrance and there are hundreds of people there. We get off & they say: 'Congratulations you are here'. Through my mother's connections we were saved. To her dying day, my mother blamed herself for not taking another half-dozen children that were not hers. But who the hell thinks? 959: The Invasion Of Hungary George Donath Edited from George Donath's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2019 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

959: The Invasion Of Hungary George Donath, born in Ujpest, Hungary, was 13 on May 18, 1944 when Germany invaded Hungary: George Donath 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 George Donath's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2019 • Learn More → George Donath Deported Encounter With Nazi Officials Forced Labour Near Escape Yellow Star Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Hungary See Locations Full Text George Donath, born in Ujpest, Hungary, was 13 on May 18, 1944 when Germany invaded Hungary: The 19th of March 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. Black uniformed soldiers got out. I don’t think we realised they were Gestapo. They went into a couple of houses, dragged out three Jewish industrialists, left us alone. Then Jewish legislation starts coming in. First thing is Yellow Stars. So we all put on the Yellow Star. More people have to go into forced labour, so my father under fifty, is called up & taken away. We have to move into a certain district & put a big Yellow Star on the entrance to the flat. Then the deportations started. There were attempts made by the Germans to mislead us. We were taken to a place they called kenyérmesö [bread fields]. They organised masses of postcards, always the same text: “We are fine, send you our regards.” No postage stamp. It was childish but people believed it. My father was in this camp. My mother heard it was us next. So she organised a country gentleman to pick us up during the night & take us into hiding in the countryside. This was the end of June. She gave this man a certain amount of money. We were waiting at the gate. We stood & stood, but he didn't come. He kept the money, nice. The next morning the Hungarian gendarmes—it was the gendarmes who did the deportations. The SS were just not visible. The gendarmerie were the country police, dressed very distinctively: cock feathers in their cap, carrying guns and so on. They came for us. And marched us out. The railway station was in a place called Rákospalota, a nice little walk of maybe 5km. We had this audience on either side, having a good time. We get there & there are the wagons. We’ve got numbers, up to 80. My mother ends up, number 80, into the wagon. My sister & I, are out! Into the next wagon. So my mother, I don’t know how, got out. And screams that she’s not going to be separated from her children. And the gendarm rendör [patrolman] hits her with the back of the gun. And she says: 'You can beat me to death, you can shoot me,' nothing doing. She won. So all three of us got into the next wagon. After a few hours, we ended up in a brick factory in Budakalász. There were 25,000 Jews there. A brick factory is an ideal place for this sort of thing, because whilst there is cover. it is also open. So they could supervise us. There was one single SS there. All the others were Hungarian gendarmes. At night, there were lights playing, not to let us sleep. To reduce resistance. We were there for five nights, during the first bombing of Budapest. We loved seeing the bombs. The next morning the wagons were ready, & we’re going to be put into the wagons. But then six names circulated in the camp. Ours is one. So we reported. We spent a day in a central place surrounded by stones, watching people being loaded into wagons. There was another sight: a tanner called Lajos Kaufer. A big strong man but very short-sighted, almost blind. One of the gendarmes pushed him so he turned round. He was shot instantly. There & then. Probably the best thing that happened to him, but a dreadful sight. Anyway. I was never actually frightened. My mother wasn’t frightened either. She had fear. I was very nervous apparently at one point but I had a strange faith – [with emotion] in my mother. That she will look after us. Which she did. All of a sudden a lorry comes. We are told to get in with about sixty people. No gendarmes but an SS. We realise that we are going into town. Next thing we know we arrive at the Jewish Deaf and Dumb Institute. We go into the back entrance and there are hundreds of people there. We get off & they say: 'Congratulations you are here'. Through my mother's connections we were saved. To her dying day, my mother blamed herself for not taking another half-dozen children that were not hers. But who the hell thinks? 959: The Invasion Of Hungary George Donath Edited from George Donath's interview with Dr Jana Buresova for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, February 2019 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Father Francis Wahle Read full biography at The AJR / Refugee Voices Testimony Archive Memories 957: How To Hide In Vienna Previous Person Next Person

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