Читать книгу Not Welcome - Sue Everett - Страница 9

Soon after the horror of Kristallnacht there was an increased urgency for Jewish parents to evacuate their children from their homeland to a place of safety. Lutz, with only a few days to prepare for departure, left on 31 July 1939 on the Kindertransport, travelling by train to London via The Hague and across the North Sea to Harwich on a flat-bottomed passenger ferry. Lutz’ parents had registered with the program and had gained a trainee permit for their son, with a guarantee of free board and lodging by his father’s cousin in Westcliff-on-Sea. They waited in desperation for a seat to be allocated. This rescue operation was instigated by The Central British Fund for German Jewry and endorsed by the British Cabinet Committee on refugees, thereby creating a combined Commission for the Aid of Children, a force of Jewish and non-Jewish bodies working for refugees, which became the Refugee Children’s Movement (RCM). The first transport, which was established four months after Hitler came into power, left Berlin on 1 December 1938. Sir Samuel Hoare, the British Home Secretary, granted refugee status to threatened Jews and unaccompanied children seeking sanctuary in Britain; there was a much more sympathetic attitude towards Jews following the events of Kristallnacht. It is likely that Lutz’s parents heard about this scheme through word of mouth and that they paid for the ticket – they would only have had a few days’ notification of an available seat beforehand.

Before his departure Lutz went to the home of Eric Heilbronn, the rabbi’s son, to say farewell. As he left, the Rabbi laid his hands on Lutz’s head and blessed him and he felt reassured by this blessing. It must have been a sobering moment, the reality of his imminent departure into the unknown. The Rabbi’s words may have simply been ‘May the Lord bless you and keep you, may He shine His light on you, and give you peace’. Tragically, Eric was killed in Italy on his first day in action with the United States army.

On that fateful day Lutz suffered through a tearful parting from his grandmother at home. His parents then took him to the station by tram, where they witnessed heart-rending scenes among the crowds of families gathered there. His mother was crying; he could tell his father was upset but trying not to reveal his feelings. Lutz expected to see others he knew at the station as his mother had told him of other families she knew who had made similar arrangements for their children. The train was already standing at the platform. Lutz noticed that there were many very young children – some only four or five years old. When they reached the platform it was very crowded and it was clear that every seat was accounted for.

They pushed their way along the platform looking for a carriage with a spare seat. The train was already quite full by the time it got to Nuremberg as many children had previously boarded in Vienna. Suddenly Lutz stopped as he saw someone he knew inside one of the carriages – it was Liesl Beck from the sports club; he turned to his parents and pointed her out to them. Having found a friend he reassured them that he would be all right. Liesl’s parents were standing beside the carriage window, and Lutz was relieved when they engaged in conversation with his parents, providing a welcome distraction from the emotional tension. Lutz wanted to get through the parting as quickly and as painlessly as possible, so giving his parents each a hug, he jumped up into the carriage beside Liesl, hoisting up his one suitcase beside him. He expected that they would meet again in England or in the United States of America, never imagining that this could be their last embrace. Liesl was equally pleased to see him and gave up her position by the window so that he could hear what his mother was shouting at him from the other side of the glass.

They weren’t at the station long before the train began to pull out, gradually increasing momentum. It was 10.30 a.m. Their parents, waving frantically, increased their pace as they tried to keep up with the moving train. Looking back towards the platform all Lutz could see was a sea of hands waving loving farewells to their vulnerable offspring. Lutz leaned out of the carriage window and yelled out encouraging final words to his parents who were gradually left behind as the train gathered steam and pulled out, away from their reach forever. The memory of this traumatic separation would haunt Lutz for the rest of his life.

The children’s carriages were attached to German trains and there were some German troops on the train as war was expected to be declared soon. Neither Lutz nor Liesl remember anyone being in charge, but all the younger children wore labels around their necks; they must have been the most precious cargo on board. Their eventual destination would be London, first travelling to the Hague on the Dutch coast.

Liesl remembers that she was wearing a tweed coat of blue-green wool dots and a hat with a turned-up brim; also that Lutz was wearing a beige ‘sports club’ windcheater. They both carried a small bag of possessions with one change of clothing – that was all they were permitted to take with them. In addition each child could take a maximum amount equivalent to ten shillings out of the country.

Liesl and Lutz negotiated with others in the carriage to sit opposite each other at the window where they practised their English on the way and talked about what England would be like. Liesl remembers that much of the landscape on the way to Holland was flat and open country. They tried opening the window but it was a steam train and soot blew in through the window, the grit irritating their eyes. When they ran out of enthusiasm for speech they both peered out of the grey wash of glass at the golden fields and rural scenes scrolling benignly past the window. They were apprehensive about what might happen at Emmerick, the German/Dutch border; whether they would be sent back or allowed to continue on their journey. They stopped at Mainz and Cologne before eventually reaching Emmerick. At the border uniformed Nazi officers entered the carriage and examined their passports. They shrank back into their seats as if trying to become invisible. The German officials searched through their bags and checked some of the children for money sewn into the seams of their clothing and hems of dresses. Some children were detained and sent back for reasons that neither Lutz nor Liesl could understand; perhaps their papers weren’t in order.

The train journey was long, tiring and hot, relieved only by sharing the refreshments that Lutz’s mother had packed for him. They didn’t see any adults on the train, but there were many on the platforms of the stations that they stopped at. Liesl noticed some of them staring at them, whispering to each other while glancing in their direction.

Lutz and Liesl travelled in the same carriage all the way to The Hague where they were checked off the train and herded onto a flat-bottomed ferry that crossed the North Sea to Harwich in England. They travelled by train from Harwich to Liverpool Street Station in London, where Lutz was met by his second cousin Hans Scherbel while Liesl sat for hours in a disused wooden hut waiting to be collected by her solicitor host family. She worked for them as a maid throughout the early war years, eventually settling in Nottingham (North England) in 1942, maintaining contact with Lutz throughout the ensuing years whenever possible.