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Belgium Antwerp Memories 924: The Babies Not Sent To Auschwitz Jacques Weisser BEM I have absolutely no memory of any kind whatsoever about the war other than what I have been told... Previous Location Next Location

Greece Thessaloniki Memories 940: Bringing The Alarm Clock Hanna Hemingway There's a reel in here [points to her head]. I can’t get it out of my mind. It's there. I just wish somebody would erase it... Previous Location Next Location

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

Helen Aronson was taken to the Łódź Ghetto in 1941 aged 14: We were taken to a disused prison. People were crying & hungry, not knowing anything. In the morning, Chaim Rumkowski, head of the Jewish Council of Elders of Łódź Ghetto, came to see us. He said: I will try & find accommodation for you but the main thing is to get a ration card & work, work, work. I'll do my best. So the parents of the children started to cry. They said: Mr Rumkowski, what has happened to our children? He said: don't worry about your children because my very good friend, Mordechai Chmura, who I worked with before the war in various orphanages, he volunteered & went with all the children from Pabianice & I know he will look after them. So when my mother heard that, she came to him & said, I’m Mordechai's wife. These are my two children. He said: I'll try & help you as much as I can. I must admit that he did because his power was like the Queen of England. Whatever he instructed you got. The whole thing was to be able to get a little bit more food. So my brother got a job in offices, liaisons between the ghetto & the Germans. Everything made in the ghetto went through these offices & things that came to the ghetto. He spoke fluent German. My mother worked in a canteen which was giving rations every week to people. I was sent to a orphanage in Marysin, near Łódź, a area which is a little bit green & wooden houses, summery things. There I was to look after orphanage children. They were not much older than I was & they all had to work. We made straw mattresses. I used to tell them stories, these kids, about Hansel & Gretel, that when they arrived at the orphanage, it would be made of bread [laughs]. But at that time I was not well, I suffered with various cysts on my body through the change of everything. I was in hospital having something opened when the Germans decided to close the orphanage & evacuate all the children. [Gets upset] I know that when they were loaded on those vans, they were calling my name, something I can’t forget. Also they decided to send old people, so my mother went. My brother had a document saying that his family are not to be sent. But it didn't mean anything. But my mother went from one street to another, to another, escaping them. Then I was delivering lunch to my brother where he worked in the centre of the ghetto. Suddenly out of the blue, lorries arrive, taking anyone at random. I'm in the middle. People started running, I started running, I didn't know where. I ran into a big building. So much screaming & dogs. So I run into this building, I don't know where it was, & run upstairs into an empty room & hide inside the bed with the cover over me. I’m hearing screaming. I hear them enter this room. They're standing near this bed I'm hiding in. And they go. Then I lie in this bed for I don't know how long. Then I looked out very timidly & see it’s dark. I thought: I'd better go home. Meanwhile my brother realised that I’m in great danger. He decided to look for me. He goes to Radogoszcz, the station they collect people, he can’t find me anywhere. He goes home, says: Helen’s been taken. Well, you can imagine my mother, the neighbours, the crying. Then I arrived [laughs]. I don't know, I don't know. It just happened that way, like people say. I gave a talk once at the Barbican. A woman stood up & said, oh, aren't you—what did she say—sorry, or something, or: don't you feel guilty that you are alive & so many people died? For a moment I didn't know what to say. Then I said: maybe I am alive for a purpose because if I wouldn't be here to tell you all this, you wouldn't know. But that’s what I mean. Every hour it was something: the fight of being alive & food [laughs]. My brother had typhoid, I looked after him, he was in hospital. Then they decided to confiscate the whole hospital & he was there. Every day, every minute: a struggle to live but then the [sighs]—how can I say. It’s something within you that you just want to see from one day to another. To survive. The struggle of daily life, staying alive. 983: The Struggle To Stay Alive Helen Aronson 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 983: The Struggle To Stay Alive ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Helen Aronson BEM Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Adapted from Helen Aronson BEM's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, July 2024 • Learn More → Helen Aronson BEM Ghetto Incarceration Near Escape Reunited Telling The Story Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Poland See Locations Full Text Helen Aronson was taken to the Łódź Ghetto in 1941 aged 14: We were taken to a disused prison. People were crying & hungry, not knowing anything. In the morning, Chaim Rumkowski, head of the Jewish Council of Elders of Łódź Ghetto, came to see us. He said: I will try & find accommodation for you but the main thing is to get a ration card & work, work, work. I'll do my best. So the parents of the children started to cry. They said: Mr Rumkowski, what has happened to our children? He said: don't worry about your children because my very good friend, Mordechai Chmura, who I worked with before the war in various orphanages, he volunteered & went with all the children from Pabianice & I know he will look after them. So when my mother heard that, she came to him & said, I’m Mordechai's wife. These are my two children. He said: I'll try & help you as much as I can. I must admit that he did because his power was like the Queen of England. Whatever he instructed you got. The whole thing was to be able to get a little bit more food. So my brother got a job in offices, liaisons between the ghetto & the Germans. Everything made in the ghetto went through these offices & things that came to the ghetto. He spoke fluent German. My mother worked in a canteen which was giving rations every week to people. I was sent to a orphanage in Marysin, near Łódź, a area which is a little bit green & wooden houses, summery things. There I was to look after orphanage children. They were not much older than I was & they all had to work. We made straw mattresses. I used to tell them stories, these kids, about Hansel & Gretel, that when they arrived at the orphanage, it would be made of bread [laughs]. But at that time I was not well, I suffered with various cysts on my body through the change of everything. I was in hospital having something opened when the Germans decided to close the orphanage & evacuate all the children. [Gets upset] I know that when they were loaded on those vans, they were calling my name, something I can’t forget. Also they decided to send old people, so my mother went. My brother had a document saying that his family are not to be sent. But it didn't mean anything. But my mother went from one street to another, to another, escaping them. Then I was delivering lunch to my brother where he worked in the centre of the ghetto. Suddenly out of the blue, lorries arrive, taking anyone at random. I'm in the middle. People started running, I started running, I didn't know where. I ran into a big building. So much screaming & dogs. So I run into this building, I don't know where it was, & run upstairs into an empty room & hide inside the bed with the cover over me. I’m hearing screaming. I hear them enter this room. They're standing near this bed I'm hiding in. And they go. Then I lie in this bed for I don't know how long. Then I looked out very timidly & see it’s dark. I thought: I'd better go home. Meanwhile my brother realised that I’m in great danger. He decided to look for me. He goes to Radogoszcz, the station they collect people, he can’t find me anywhere. He goes home, says: Helen’s been taken. Well, you can imagine my mother, the neighbours, the crying. Then I arrived [laughs]. I don't know, I don't know. It just happened that way, like people say. I gave a talk once at the Barbican. A woman stood up & said, oh, aren't you—what did she say—sorry, or something, or: don't you feel guilty that you are alive & so many people died? For a moment I didn't know what to say. Then I said: maybe I am alive for a purpose because if I wouldn't be here to tell you all this, you wouldn't know. But that’s what I mean. Every hour it was something: the fight of being alive & food [laughs]. My brother had typhoid, I looked after him, he was in hospital. Then they decided to confiscate the whole hospital & he was there. Every day, every minute: a struggle to live but then the [sighs]—how can I say. It’s something within you that you just want to see from one day to another. To survive. The struggle of daily life, staying alive. 983: The Struggle To Stay Alive Helen Aronson BEM Adapted from Helen Aronson BEM'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

933: Interned In Algeria 1939: Erna Klein, born in Oels, is working as a nanny in Algiers. Erna Klein 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 Erna Klein's interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, March 2003 • Learn More → Erna Klein Algerian Internment Food Liberation Nerves of Steel Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Algeria See Locations Full Text 1939: Erna Klein, born in Oels, is working as a nanny in Algiers. During my stay in Algeria I was interned three times, because of my nationality. The first time was immediately after the outbreak of war, I was sent to Sidi Bel Abbès, where the Foreign Legion was. I was the only woman interned there. A few men of German & Austrian nationality were there too. Quite a few Italians. I was put into the hall, on a sack with straw & watched over by an Arab Tireurs soldier with a bayonet. I asked the French officer could I please have the key to lock myself in. He was kind enough to give me the key. After a few days I caught gastroenteritis & the porters were so very, very kind, they asked the French officers could they give me a room in their flat & a bed, & look after me, & that was granted. After I got better I was sent back to Mostaganem. The second time I was interned for three months high up in the Atlas mountains in a place, a very small place called Ben Chicao. An ancient orphanage. There were people from Germany, Italy, Austria, Poland, Russia. I was given the infirmary to look after & looked after the sick people. There were mothers with babies there & I had to distribute the milk, to the babies. They kept pigs outside & a sow had lots of piglets & couldn’t feed them all so I had to bring them the leftover milk accompanied by a soldier carrying bayonet. He wanted to be fresh. Fortunately, before in Mostaganem, a Spanish lady had taught me a smattering of Arabic. So when this Tireur was not very respectful one Arabic sentence I had learned helped me a lot. It meant: ‘Are you drunk or whatever is the matter with you?’ That helped me out of a few difficult situations. Therefore it’s a sentence I won’t forget. I was in Ben Chicao when the Germans took over Paris. The Germans there heard the radio & knew & they celebrated & it was all very sad. There were a few Jewish girls as well. They did not live in Algeria. One of them was arrested because she was in the troupe of Mistinguette, a famous French dancer. They came from South America, their ship landed in Algiers & she was arrested. There were a few entertainers. We all slept in the same dormitory so as not to be with the Germans who were antisemitic. Then I was liberated again. The last time, I was arrested & brought to a hotel in Oran by the American army with some Italians & Germans again of course but that was pretty wonderful. Because for years we had been cut off from France & there was scarcely anything to eat in Algeria except for grapes & melons & figs. But while we were interned by the Americans we had proper food, even chocolate! I showed them some letters I got from my parents from England. So they told me that I could go. But I still had to go back to Mostaganem which was a very long way away from Oran & again I was arrested & had no money. But fortunately we were arrested in a hotel where we had to sleep three in a bed, I said ‘How am I going to go to Mostaganem?’ There was an Arab wholesaler of vegetables who had come with his lorry to buy his wholesale vegetables in Oran. He said ‘I’ll give you a lift back on my lorry.’ So I got back to where I had my home. There was a typhoid epidemic. I joined the Free French Army as a nurse. It was 1944. I felt I was alive & ought to do something for France. Had I been a man I would have gone into the Foreign Legion, but that wasn’t open to me. 933: Interned In Algeria Erna Klein Edited from Erna Klein's interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, March 2003 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Canada Toronto Memories 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... Previous Location Next Location

Ruth Edwards was 12 and a half years old when she came to England from Vienna in 1939: I was on the train and saw my father crying. That made me cry. My mother said, perhaps she doesn't want to go. I said, yes, I do want to go. I remember saying that but not in English of course and the next thing is we were gone. It was a very quick goodbye. Nobody thought that we would never seem them again. I thought it would be a matter of six or seven months and we would be together again. Ruth came to Britain on a domestic service visa. Her parents escaped to Yugoslavia, but were murdered in Zagreb during the Second World War. I got a Red Cross letter in 1945. There was a very good man, a Mr Bloom, who lived just around the corner from us [in Macclesfield]. After the war he used to come in with all the names of people who'd survived. I went through everything & never found their names on it or any of my family names. In 1945 I got an official letter from the Red Cross that they were shot in Zagreb. It would have been nice for them to see me. I know how much pleasure my grandchildren have given me. I used to have the older ones staying with me overnight. I used to take them back on a Sunday to my son and we used to say, "Do you want us to come up every week? It is too much." And he used to say "Mum, you don't know about grandparents, what it is. We never had them so let my children enjoy it." And we have. We have had a very good relationship with all four. It is wonderful, which my parents never had. 964: The Next Thing Is We Were Gone Ruth Edwards 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 964: The Next Thing Is We Were Gone ← Previous Memory All Memories Next Memory → Ruth Edwards Read Full Text Previous Memory Home Memories People Places Experiences About Contact Menu Close Next Memory ← Previous Memory Credits & tags Edited from Ruth Edwards' interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, September 2003 • Learn More → Ruth Edwards Close Family Murdered Finding Out Recovery Red Cross Letters Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts England See Locations Full Text Ruth Edwards was 12 and a half years old when she came to England from Vienna in 1939: I was on the train and saw my father crying. That made me cry. My mother said, perhaps she doesn't want to go. I said, yes, I do want to go. I remember saying that but not in English of course and the next thing is we were gone. It was a very quick goodbye. Nobody thought that we would never seem them again. I thought it would be a matter of six or seven months and we would be together again. Ruth came to Britain on a domestic service visa. Her parents escaped to Yugoslavia, but were murdered in Zagreb during the Second World War. I got a Red Cross letter in 1945. There was a very good man, a Mr Bloom, who lived just around the corner from us [in Macclesfield]. After the war he used to come in with all the names of people who'd survived. I went through everything & never found their names on it or any of my family names. In 1945 I got an official letter from the Red Cross that they were shot in Zagreb. It would have been nice for them to see me. I know how much pleasure my grandchildren have given me. I used to have the older ones staying with me overnight. I used to take them back on a Sunday to my son and we used to say, "Do you want us to come up every week? It is too much." And he used to say "Mum, you don't know about grandparents, what it is. We never had them so let my children enjoy it." And we have. We have had a very good relationship with all four. It is wonderful, which my parents never had. 964: The Next Thing Is We Were Gone Ruth Edwards Edited from Ruth Edwards' interview with Dr Rosalyn Livshin for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, September 2003 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

929: Fending For Myself Aged 9 Budapest: Stephen Nagy was nine and a half in September 1944: Stephen Nagy 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 Stephen Nagy's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, March 2019 • Learn More → Stephen Nagy Arrow Cross In Hiding Jewish House Liberation Nerves of Steel Reunited Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Hungary See Locations Full Text Budapest: Stephen Nagy was nine and a half in September 1944: I contracted scarlet fever, at that time a very serious illness. You had to go to an isolation hospital for six weeks. On October 14th I got a phone call from my father saying to get my clothes together: the next day I'd go home. But the next day was October 15, when the right-wing fascist Hungarians under Ferenc Szálasi took over. So, I was stuck in hospital. At first, I felt reasonably safe. I had a friend there who called me, in Hungarian, büdös zsidó, which means “smelly Jew” which the Jews were called. I wasn't pleased. But he wasn't very nasty about it. I didn't understand why I was still in the hospital. I later learned that first of all no one could come for me because the Germans blew up the bridge. Also, my family arranged through connections with the hospital director that they keep me there until further notice. I heard guns. The Russians were getting nearer. Then on December 21, suddenly this gentleman called Mr. Bujdosi, I remember the name, a lovely gentleman, came with a car. And I was taken to an International Red Cross house. There were a lot of Jewish children there. Conditions were reasonably normal. There was food. I was quite ignorant of what was going on except I knew there was a war. I knew the Russians were coming nearer. I knew that there were daily air raids, the siren sounded. We had to go down to the shelter. The house escaped because there was obviously a Red Cross marked on the roof. I was pretty frightened. I wasn't a happy bunny. But I was 9½ & reasonably streetwise. I was already on my own for nearly two months. I was fending for myself. I found it a relatively normal thing. There were 2 or 3 adults in charge. One woman was a rather old battle axe, not very pleasant to us. Then, soon after Christmas, suddenly, the adults disappeared. I was curious what was happening & went down in the shelter. I found lots of old Jewish people, including my father's second cousin. When she saw me, she just said, 'My God. What are you doing here? Don't go back upstairs. Stay downstairs with me. We've still got some food.' So I stayed. "Then on January 18, after weeks of awful bombing suddenly there was eerie silence. I woke up on a straw mattress next to the lady. She said 'Don't go outside!' but I did & found we were 'free'. The same day, my relative’s daughter came for her & found me there & took me back to their flat. I had my first decent meal there. A potato dish. What happened after that—I never forgave her—was that the daughter took me to a Yellow Star house, saying she didn't know anything about my parents but that my uncle & aunt were there, which they weren't. So I was stuck there alone for another 4 weeks. The remaining Germans tried to dig a tunnel & escape but were all annihilated. So there was lots of bombs. Sadly, my older relative, who was at the International Red Cross house, was in the street & was killed by a shrapnel. Eventually my uncle & aunt arrived. It was ice cold. The Danube was frozen over. My job was to go down with a saucepan & bring up water from the ground floor because there was no pressure. I carried this water up, stopping after each floor because by this stage I was quite weak. One day, February 1, I was carrying water, I heard a strange voice, which I thought may have been my brother's but it's gone a bit deeper than what I remembered. I went up there & found my mother & brother in the flat. They'd escaped from Old Buda. They were in a house where Germans moved into the lower ground floor. But on the 31st of January, suddenly these Germans disappeared. So next day, my mother & brother went down to the Danube, where it narrows & was thick ice. They had taken the dog, who was very close to my 7-year-old cousin. Several times, my brother gave it a kick to go back but it wouldn't. They managed to cross the Danube & decided to write a little note, “We crossed the Danube at Ujpest. Come after us.” And my brother gave the dog a huge big kick & it found a way all the way back to the house. And as my cousin put her arms around the dog & kissed the dog she found this note. So the next day, my aunt, with my father & my cousin, came the same way & arrived at my uncle & aunt's yellow star house, where we all were. So that was the family reunion. 929: Fending For Myself Aged 9 Stephen Nagy Edited from Stephen Nagy's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, March 2019 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

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

970: Mother's Death At Our Liberation Mirjam Finkelstein (aged 11) spent 13 months in Bergen-Belsen camp with her mother & two sisters: Mirjam Finkelstein 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 Mirjam Finkelstein's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2006 • Learn More → Mirjam Finkelstein Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp Encounter With Nazi Officials Liberation Reunited Read AJR biography Next Memory → See Instagram & Facebook posts Germany See Locations Full Text Mirjam Finkelstein (aged 11) spent 13 months in Bergen-Belsen camp with her mother & two sisters: By January 1945 there were rumours. People got quite excited. There was a wooden table, we had to walk past the camp doctor. He decided who would go to wherever we were going. I don’t think anybody really knew. My mother managed—I don’t know how—to walk upright past him, & we were chosen to go on this transport. Immediately then & there we were taken to the railway tracks nearby. There was a bathhouse. We were told to strip & have a shower. I wasn't afraid but the adults must have been terrified that this wasn't water coming, you know. But indeed it was water. We were told to get out & get dressed, & we were sat on the embankment & were given something to eat. This I remember you see: given something to eat. Then the train arrived, an ordinary train. To me this journey lasted about two weeks but it was only a few days. We stopped a lot because of bombardments. My mother was lying on the bench. It kept stopping at various concentration camps. We were told it was an exchange. I think we knew we were going to Switzerland. Very cold & snowy outside. Eventually we were told to get off the train. My sister said ‘Look we…’—to an SS officer with his high boots who came through in the morning. Ruth said: ‘We can’t get out; we can’t carry my mother out’. He said:‘OK. Stay.’ Eventually we reached St Gallen & were put onto a Swiss train. I suppose we were exchanged, for German prisoners of war who were in America. We crossed the border & they took my mother to hospital. She died within hours; she died that night in Kreuzlingen. She, I think, knew she’d taken us out. She’d got us free—& let go. She was very, very weak. She died & she’s buried there. We were taken up on top of a mountainside & they put us up in a sort of barn where cows were normally kept, but it was very clean & there was fresh straw. We were then told that my mother had died. My eldest sister was allowed to go to the funeral. An officer with a rifle took her under guard to Kreuzlingen to a Jewish family. She had a bath & a meal at the table. They went to the funeral there. I’ve been to visit a few times. My sister came back & took care of us. I don’t think it hit us completely what happened. People cabled my father. Then the Swiss handed us over to the Americans & we were put onto a train with American soldiers. The Americans by then had liberated France. We went down the Rhone-Saone valley, littered with tanks & military vehicles, a lot of battles. We were taken to Marseilles, a pitiful remnant. A few people died when they arrived, like my mother did. There were only about 60 of us. We would have gone anywhere they took us. We were put on to an Italian warship in the harbour, with the idea that we would be taken to Philippeville in Algeria to a United Nations refugee camp for people who didn’t have proper passports. My father cabled & pulled every string. He managed to get permission to have us shipped to America. So we were at the very last moment taken off this Italian warship & put on the Gripsholm, a Swedish Red Cross ship taking wounded American soldiers back home. Oh my, those soldiers were in a terrible state. The injuries of these poor young men, it was really quite appalling. The journey to New York took quite a long time, about two weeks. It was still wartime, we took a very southerly route to avoid submarines & mines. We came into the harbour there to the Statue of Liberty. We were interviewed & interrogated & put onto Ellis Island for a few nights. A prison basically. Then we were taken into New York to an immigration office, and there down the corridor came my father! It was quite amazing. We were asked to swear the Oath of Allegiance & were handed over to him! And came into brightly lit…I mean America was at war but it was brightly lit because the bombers couldn’t reach that far. My father took us to the cafeteria of his hotel. You know, it was as if we’d landed on the moon. Quite, quite extraordinary. But children take these things in their stride. In a way, adults do as well. My sister Ruth for a long time afterwards used to take food up into…by her bedside table. I suppose she felt, you know, any moment now it’ll disappear again. Long time that she did that. 970: Mother's Death At Our Liberation Mirjam Finkelstein Edited from Mirjam Finkelstein's interview with Dr Bea Lewkowicz for AJR Refugee Voices Testimony Archive, November 2006 • Learn More → Text adapted and edited by Susanna Kleeman Facebook & Instagram Posts

Scotland Abbotsford House Memories 941: Sharing The Sandwiches Henry Wuga MBE Ingrid & I got married on December 26 1944. In the middle of the war. We were in love & there was nothing to wait for. We were 20... Previous Location Next Location

Hungary Budapest Memories 929: Fending For Myself Aged 9 Stephen Nagy I contracted scarlet fever. You had to go to an isolation hospital for six weeks. The fascist Hungarians took over. So, I was stuck in hospital... 942: Father's New Woman John Hajdu MBE In each flat it was about 20 of us squeezed in. The area was guarded by the Arrow Cross Party: fascist & brutal. Hardly any food... 943: The Legless Side Of The Bed Laszlo Roman I was always told I mustn’t pee by the side of the road because someone might see that I am circumcised... 958: Discovering I Was Jewish John Dobai My parents thought that by changing their religion, it might produce some sort of saving, at least for me. But they were wrong... 959: The Invasion Of Hungary George Donath It was a Sunday. We went to my grandparents for lunch as usual. All of a sudden we see these black Mercedes drawing up in front... Previous Location Next Location