The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII

by Marion Kummerow

  He remembered the funny smells in the church and the paintings in the windows made from glass. The priest had been nice enough, patting him on the head before moving Trudi away to speak to her in private.

  He’d thought Papa would be annoyed when he told him about visiting the church, but he had instead exchanged a small, secret smile with Trudi. He’d told Heinz not to tell anyone about the church visit, particularly Aunt Chana.

  Later he heard Papa ask Trudi if the paperwork was possible, but he hadn’t known then what Papa meant. It was only in Dachau, listening to the stories of how other Jews had tried to leave, he heard about Jewish children being given fake Catholic papers, in a bid to hide from the Nazis. Was that what Trudi had been trying to do?

  Suddenly, the train screeched to a stop. Rachel glanced at him, her face turning white. They heard loud German voices and the barking of dogs. Some children began to wail but most were stuck silent to their seats, in terror. The compartment doors were thrown open.

  “Luggage inspection!”

  The older children scrambled to take the cases and haversacks from the luggage racks above the seats. The Nazis hadn’t learned any patience.

  “Schnell! Schnell! Open up,” they screamed as they moved along the carriage. Any bag that wasn’t opened up fast enough was torn apart. Soon the carriage was strewn in clothes and underthings, as the men searched for anything of value. Just as Rachel had predicted, nothing escaped their eagle eyes. When they caught a young child with twenty marks, he got a vicious clout across the head. This despite the fact his protests about not knowing it was there rang true. Necklaces were yanked from around girls’ necks. In one case they threatened to pull out a girl’s earrings as she took too long to remove them. Her hands were shaking too much. Rachel stepped forward and removed them calmly, before handing them to the solider. The look he gave Rachel made Heinz’s hair stand up on the back of his neck. It wasn’t the look one gave a child. Heinz moved so suddenly, Liesl protested with a squeal and chose that moment to roar in protest. It got the man’s attention, giving Rachel a chance to dart back into the crowd of children.

  “What’s wrong with that rat? Trying to hide something valuable in its clothes?”

  Before Heinz could react, the man grabbed Liesl from his arms. Liesl’s roars soared as her arms flailed about in protest at the rough handling. The solider shook her as if she was a small dog. Heinz stepped forward but it was Tomas who came to the rescue.

  “Stop that. You’re scaring her, you bad man. Adults don’t hurt babies. Go pick on someone your own size you, big, fat meanie.”

  Heinz’s breath caught in his chest. What on earth had got into Tomas? What would the Nazi do to his brother?

  “Sorry Sir, my brother gets a…”

  “Silence.” The man thrust the protesting Liesl at Heinz. “Undress her. I want proof she is hiding nothing.”

  Heinz did as he was bid but kept an eye on the Nazi and his brother at the same time. The Nazi held the back of Tomas’ neck making Tomas stand on tip-toe to try and remain on his feet. Tomas’ face was white, his large blue eyes taking over most of his face.

  “There,” Heinz held up his naked sister who stared at the Nazi too but in silence this time.

  The Nazi dismissed Liesl with a wave of his hands, his attention falling to Brown-Bear, clutched in Tomas’ hands.

  “Give me that bear.”

  Tomas paled, cuddling the bear closer.

  “No. He was a present from my Papa. Papa died and it’s all I have left.”

  “Give it to me or I will throw you off the train.” The solider lifted Tomas further off his feet. Despite this, and the continuous threats, Tomas kept an even tighter hold of the bear. The Nazi’s eyes gleamed. Heinz was sure he believed Tomas was holding onto the bear because it was stuffed with valuables.

  “Give the man the bear, Tomas,” he hissed. “Now!”

  Tom glanced at Heinz, his eyes wide and filled with tears. “Do I have to?”

  Heinz nodded. Tomas hugged the bear and then held it out to the Nazi. He let Tomas drop immediately to the floor where Rachel sprang forward and picked him up, cuddling his face to her neck so he couldn’t see his bear being mutilated. Not content with removing the head, the solider pulled off the arms and legs, his temper rising as he found nothing but stuffing inside. Heinz didn’t know what would have happened next but for a whistle summoning all the soldiers off the train.

  “One day, you’ll regret the fact some Jewish cow gave birth to you,” the man snarled, as he threw the remains of the bear out the window. Tomas broke free of Rachel’s arms. He gathered the leg and arm left behind and tried to put them back together.

  “Why?” Tomas sobbed. “Brown-Bear didn’t do anything.”

  Rachel cuddled him, tears running down her own face, as they sat down. Heinz couldn’t move; his voice wouldn’t work. Liesl held her hands out to Tomas, trying to touch his face. Heinz moved closer to his brother and watched as the baby put her arms around Tomas’ neck.

  “Liebe Dich.”

  Tomas sat and took Liesl in his arms and cuddled her close. He didn’t speak another word, not even when some lovely Dutch ladies got onto the train and gave them baskets of food. They smiled and tried their best to help the traumatized children. But nothing worked with Tomas.

  12

  Abbeydale, Surrey, August 1939

  “Sally! Mrs. Matthews.”

  Sally turned at the sound of the local Rector calling her. He was new to their parish, a much younger man than they were used to. Reverend Hilton had passed away a few months previously and it had taken time for the parish to find a replacement.

  “Yes, Reverend Collins.”

  “Would you have time to have a cup of tea with me at the rectory. I have something I would like to discuss with you and some of the other ladies in the village.” He pulled at his collar, making her think he was nervous.

  “Now?”

  “Well, if you had the time, that would be wonderful. Time is against us you see and I must find some families. Would you mind?”

  Sally thought of all the chores she had planned for today but nothing was too urgent it couldn’t wait. Intrigued by the Reverend’s nervous energy, she said yes.

  “I just hope you don’t want us to knit more socks. I was not blessed when that skill was doled out.”

  He laughed. She relaxed, as he seemed much easier to get on with than old Hilton had been. That man had been cranky, even before his arthritis had crippled him. God forgive her for thinking that way of a man of the cloth.

  “I think Mrs. Ardle may have made some of her buns today. Let me just see. Why don’t you hang up your coat and make your way into the study? You know where it is, I assume?”

  He saved her from answering, by pointing to a door on the right-hand side of the house, while he headed straight on. She opened the door and gasped, as it was such a mess. There was paperwork everywhere, not just covering the desk but the chairs around it as well. There were pieces on the small sofa and on the coffee table. She wasn’t sure where he meant her to sit.

  He followed behind her. “Mrs. Ardle will bring in the tea. Oh my, what a mess. It looks worse than I remembered. Forgive me, Mrs. Matthews, let me take those.” He removed some papers from the couch and indicated for her to take a seat. Sally grinned at him calling Maggie, Mrs. Ardle. She couldn’t remember anyone doing that before, not even Reverend Hilton.

  Maggie waddled in, carrying a tray with some china cups, saucers, and a plate of her famous buns.

  “Morning Sally. Don’t you look lovely in that gay-looking dress? Don’t tell anyone about the mess in here will you, love? I’m ashamed to be associated with it. Wasn’t like this in Reverend Hilton’s day, may he rest in peace. But Reverend Collins, he spends more time with the people and less at his desk. I wish he’d let me in to tidy up but he says it's confidential. As if I would tell anyone…”

  The woman was gone almost as fast as she came in. Sally and Reverend Collins exch
anged a smile. Maggie had a heart of gold but she never stopped talking. Always asking questions but never stopping to wait for an answer. She’d been a widow since the first war and had worked for Reverend Hilton for longer than anyone could remember.

  “She treats me like a wayward son.”

  “You are the closest thing she has to a son. If ever there was a woman born to be a mother, that was Maggie Ardle. She must like you. Maggie has a heart of gold, she looked after me when my mum couldn’t.”

  Sally hesitated, not knowing what the Reverend knew about her background.

  “So, you think I should let her tidy up in here.”

  Sally paused, not wishing to speak out of turn.

  “Please, Mrs. Matthews, Sally if I may. I need all the help I can get. This is my first parish you see and I have rather big shoes to fill.”

  Any reservations Sally felt, fell away. “You are doing a great job already Reverend Collins. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you. I would say, take every bit of help you can. With the war coming and please let’s not pretend it isn’t, I think people will lean on their Vicars and priests even more than they do already. Anyone can deal with paperwork. It takes a special person to ease another’s burden.”

  “That’s exactly what I wanted to speak to you about, Mrs—I mean Sally. You’re just the kind of person I was looking for.”

  “I am?” Sally hoped she hadn’t landed herself in a whole load of voluntary work. She did her bit and more but she didn’t have time to deal with some of the ladies who lived up on the hill. Those who sat around for hours, on various committees, without making any progress or not that she could see anyway. She preferred to get things done, not sit around drinking tea.

  “What did you have in mind, Reverend because it’s fair to warn you, Mrs. Shackleton-Driver is the volunteer commander in this town.” And the surrounding county, if truth be told, but Sally didn’t want the Vicar to hear her speaking ill of her neighbors.

  He didn’t mask his expression of distaste, in time. “Mrs. Shackleton-Driver is a formidable lady and her ladies do great work, I’m sure. What I am looking for is someone closer to the ground.”

  “The ground? You make me sound like a root vegetable,” Sally replied, jokingly.

  He turned red and began trying to apologize. She waved it away. “What you are trying to say, politely, is that I am working-class. That’s what I am and no reason to beat about the bush. I don’t move in the same circles as Mrs. Shackleton-Driver and her friends.”

  He flushed again at her frankness, shuffled some papers and then spoke.

  “I am looking for ordinary families who would consider an extraordinary gift. The gift of a home to a child, who has left everything behind. A German or Austrian child. One from a different religion.”

  Sally put her cup down to stare at him.

  “Jewish children. Coming here to Abbeydale?”

  He looked surprised.

  “You’ve heard of the Kindertransport?”

  Sally nodded but remained silent.

  “That’s a relief. Then I don’t need to tell you how urgently we need to find families. As you rightly said, war is coming and time is running out. I’ve spent time in Germany, and I can’t quite believe how bad things have become. The whole Jewish people are in jeopardy and we must save the children. We just have to.”

  “But how can I help?”

  “We need people just like you. People who have a home of their own and could offer shelter to these poor, little mites. Do you know, many who are traveling on their own are only five or six-years-old? Some are even younger.” He took a gulp of tea, his cup rattling against the saucer. “Some have seen things no person should see, let alone a child. The events of Kristallnacht have left lasting scars. “

  “But surely they would be better staying with their families. Children that age need their parents, their mothers.”

  “They do and in an ideal world, we would take the whole families. But immigration is proving difficult. There are many, including those representing our church, who believe mass immigration of the Jewish people will lead to problems. They are also worried about Nazis coming over here.”

  “Why would any Jewish person support the Nazis?”

  “Why indeed. But to be frank, I don’t think the objections are always rational. The Nazis don’t hide their dislike for the Jewish race but there are some people here who share their appalling views.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “even some in our own Royal Family.”

  Sally’s eyes filled up. The thought of any children being hurt always made her angry. She knew a few families in town where the fathers and sometimes the mothers too, used to beat the children just because they could. She hated to see a child scared or hungry.

  “So, you want me to volunteer to look after a child until you can find a Jewish home?”

  “Not necessarily. I could lie and say yes that’s exactly it. I guess that might be what the Jewish organizations here would wish. But there are simply too many children and not enough places. I would like you to offer your home to a child for as long as that child needs one.”

  Stunned, Sally studied his face.

  “You mean until the war is over.”

  “At least until then. I need your help to convince other women to do it too. Do you think there are many in this village who would help?”

  “I haven’t said yes, yet.”

  “But you will, won’t you? I have been listening to what people say about you, Sally. I don’t think I have misjudged you. You will take in a child, won’t you?”

  Sally couldn’t answer that. If she was alone, of course she would but she was married now. What would Derek think? He wanted children of their own. She’d been secretly hoping she had already fallen pregnant, but that hope had been dashed a few days previous.

  “Why don’t you come and meet the train with me. It’s my turn to meet the next one at Liverpool Street Station. You can see how everything works.”

  “I don’t know, Reverend Collins. I will have to ask my husband and Derek is with the army now. I don’t know when he will be back.”

  “Ah yes. You’re recently married. How do you think your husband would react? Would he want the children to be housed in dormitories at the seaside? That’s what’s happening. They are taking these poor unfortunates to live in what were supposed to be holiday prefabs. It is freezing cold and not ideal but where else can we put them?”

  “But I thought they had to come to relations. I mean that was part of the agreement to take these children in.”

  “Yes Sally, some do come over to those who sponsored them. In some cases, the children are reunited with parents who arrived here first.”

  “You mean parents came to England and left their children alone at home?”

  “Nothing is ever as simple as it seems Sally. In many cases, fathers and/or mothers have come to England as a means of saving their children. Only when they have found a home and work here could their children qualify for immigration. A few have aunts, uncles, or older siblings living here but few immigrants can afford to provide shelter for someone else’s children. They are finding it difficult to survive themselves.”

  Chastened for judging someone she didn’t know, she remained silent. How often had her mum told her not to judge someone until she had walked a mile in their shoes?

  “I’ll come with you to Liverpool Street and I will speak to a few of the ladies I know. They might come with me.”

  His face brightened but she hastened to set him right.

  “Please don’t get your hopes up, Reverend. I want to help, I do. But these are Germans. I know they are Jewish and hopefully, that’s what people will see first but there is a lot of anti-German feeling in this country. Maggie and her generation lost so much in the last war. My own father died before I was born.” She didn’t add that her mother hadn’t been married and had paid the price for it. He would find out soon enough when the gossips in Abbeydale caught up with him. �
�It may prove more difficult than you think to persuade people to put aside those views and just see the children for what they are, innocent victims.”

  “I am a good judge of character, Sally Matthews, despite my youth and relative inexperience in this role. I had a wonderful mentor at my last parish. He taught me to try every solution I can think of. I might fail over and over again, but every failure means success is just around the corner. Now forgive me, I have to get off. I seem to have a lot of weddings to plan.”

  Sally drained her tea and gathered the cups together. “I’ll carry the tea tray through to Maggie. She’d be upset if I didn’t pop my head in and say hello, now that I am here.” She hesitated.

  “What? Go on, speak freely.”

  “Have you considered asking Maggie to help?” She could tell from the look on his face, he hadn’t. “Maggie Ardle is well-known and respected in Abbeydale and beyond. She has a big heart and is just waiting to fuss over someone. That would be why you might feel a little henpecked.” The flush on his neck told her she was right. “I’ve known Maggie my whole life, she was a godsend when Mum died.”

  “Ask her to tidy up, too, will you? I don’t know how best to approach her.”

  “I thought you were a grown-up, Reverend Collins.

  “Ah, whatever gave you that idea.” He laughed as he walked out the front door.

  Sally gathered the cups, saucers, and plates and took them into the kitchen. Maggie looked up as Sally came through the door.

  “Gone running, has he? He’s always late. Forget his head if it wasn’t stuck onto his shoulders. Not a bit like Reverend Hilton.”

  “I thought you didn't like Reverend Hilton, Maggie.”

  “I couldn’t stand him, Sally, as well you know, but beggars can’t be choosers. I had to keep this job, I had nowhere else to go. But I wish I had stood up to him years ago. He had a mean streak in him and there’s no mistake about that.”