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"The one memory that I have is my mother telling me that I was to go to my room and just pick the few toys that I wanted to take with me and to be fast about it." | |||
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Eva Rappoport Edmands Born 1929 Vienna, Austria 
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My parents decided we had to leave Vienna and that our only chance was to go to France and it was really a last-minute decision and very hurriedly we decided to leave everything behind and just pack a couple suitcases. And I remember...the one memory that I have is my mother telling me that I was to go to my room and just pick the few toys that I wanted to take with me and to be fast about it. And I remember that I was started piling up a whole pile of my things and my favorite dolls and mother came and she said, "Oh, no. You can't take all this." And she picked two dolls, and she said, "You can take two dolls. Period." And I was crying, you know, didn't really...that I felt was terribly unfair to do this to me. And so we just...they just threw some clothes in suitcases and, uh, we went and said goodbye to my grandparents and, uh, that was the last time that I, I was to see them again. | ||
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Alice (Ebostarkova) Masters Born 1925 Czechoslovakia 
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So we got on the train. Of course, it was very, very emotional, but all those children were in the same boat. And there was another little girl that joined us. Her name was Eva Rothberger, she was the, also 10 years old. My sister--by the way, my older sister was 15. I was just turned 14, and my younger sister was 10. Another little girl joined us, the daughter of a friend of my uncle's. Her name was Eva Rothberger, and she came with us, so there were four of us. And there were lots of children in the compartment, and we were frightened, excited. And there were other kids in the same boat, so I suppose we didn't know what to expect. But what our father told us that we were going to go through Holland and that because it was Friday night, we would get off the train and spend the Shabbat...Sabbath in, uh, Amsterdam or in the Hague, I'm not sure where we went through, but, in any case, in Holland. And so we were quite excited about that, but when we arrived in Holland on Friday evening, we were told that the Dutch authorities didn't want us to get off the train. I think they were afraid of too many refugees being dropped off on the border, in Holland. So they decided that they were not to get off the train. So instead, lots of people came to the railway station with, uh, hot chocolate and bars of chocolate and cookies and they handed these things over to us through open windows in the train. And I was very, very grateful about that. I thought it was very kind, although I was very disappointed and felt terrible that they didn't want us. That the Dutch authorities didn't want us to get off, I couldn't--I mean, that was very painful for me to think that they...these people didn't want us. I mean, I couldn't understand it, but then I was very happy that these people came and I was grateful to see these people at the train doing something for us. So I guess I consoled myself with that. Now, we crossed the--we were very frightened when we came to Germany, because we, there was an inspection. The German uniformed soldiers came on the train, all of the, uh, and they inspected our luggage. And we were frightened, and, of course, once we left Germany, we were all thrilled and cheered like crazy. We were thrilled to be out of Germany and said, "Now, we are okay, we are safe, safe." | ||
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Norbert Wollheim Born 1913 Berlin, Germany 
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I saw, all the transports which left Berlin I saw off, because it was my function to see to it that these things were working properly. So, uh, on a typical day we asked the parents to come with the children, not only from Berlin, from, let us say those who had to come from East Prussia or from Breslau, or so, had to travel the night before, but in the morning they all were there. And there was a very special atmosphere in the air, expectation to a certain extent, there was laughing, and there were tears, and there was concern, and the last, last, uh, uh, advice by the mothers, uh, what to do and what not to do, and then at a certain time when the, the time of departure, uh, came closer, and we had, as I said, reserved wagons which, which had to be filled with these children. And the, the police had insisted that the parents do not accompany, accompany the, uh, the, uh, children to the railways because there were certain difficulties, uh, they insisted that the goodbye had to be done uh, not in, in, in, uh, in public. So, uh, uh, uh, when the time of departures came closer then I, I was ascending a chair there, that was my rostrum, and I asked the parents then that I addressed the parents, and told them that the day of departure has come, and they should say goodbye because we're under strict order by the police to take, just to take the children up to the rail, to the railways and they have to remain there. And, uh, that I ask for their cooperation and their understanding, because only that, that their behavior would guarantee the continuity of our operations. So, um, um, then the parents said goodbye and again there was laughing and crying and a last hug. And, but, later when I asked very often to myself the question, "How did I have the courage to say that to the parents?" I only can answer that at this time we didn't know and we couldn't even foresee, we couldn't surmise for a moment that for many or most, it would be the last goodbye, that most of those children would never see their parents again. | ||
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Norbert I. Swislocki Born 1936 Warsaw, Poland 
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Uh, yes, uh one of...on one of the days that my mother and I were, uh, fleeing essentially from, uh, Warsaw, uh, I lost the teddy bear that I had been given. Uh, and what had happened was that the train stopped somewhere, uh, and in the crush of people trying to get out my teddy bear was torn out of my hands. So I bent over to pick it up and as I bent over to pick it up I lost my mother's...the grip of her hand. I mean I just lost contact with her. And I bent over to get the teddy bear and I couldn't get the teddy bear and all the people started moving out and I was sort of swept along I think with the crowd. And when I emerged from the train, uh, I couldn't find my mother. So I...it seemed like forever, you know I had been just a few minutes or less. But she eventually found me on the platform. So I lost the bear but I found my mother. | ||
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Lucille Camhi Born 1924 Volozhin, Poland 
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Mother decided to send us away, she packed us up and she, uh...and this friend of the family helped us. And, uh, we got into the wagon and we drove down, uh, to the train station. We got to the train station, there was like daybreak. And the train was standing there and there were thousands, thousands of people trying to get on the train. And most of it...the train was packed and people were going through the windows and through...between the trains. And my mother just...and we had two small...one of those little valises and a...and a bag. My mother just pushed us on the train and just as she pushed us on the train, she sort of threw the two valises after us and the train took off. We never got even a chance to say good-bye to her. | ||
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Tove Schoenbaum Bamberger Born 1934 Copenhagen, Denmark 
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I remember I was so proud of myself. I was the only one not being seasick. And we stayed very quietly and the boat went out. And when we were in the middle of the ocean between Sweden--it was about 30 minutes into Sweden--between Sweden and Denmark, a big boat came and we were afraid it was Germans because there were soldiers on it, they were dressed, they looked just like Germans. But it was a Swedish patrol boat that came to pick us up. They came in Swedish waters. They were allowed to go out and the Germans couldn't--then we were safe--the Germans couldn't do anything. There came the big boat and they helped us up from the fishing boat. And we stayed on the deck, then we were, we were saved. And we went into a little harbor in Sweden. I think it was right outside, uh, Helsingborg. Helsingborg. Yeah, Helsingborg. And, you know, they're welcoming us; and they all look like Germans because the Swedes, they were wearing the same dresses. And we came in and we, uh, got coffee, tea, and, and they told us where we could stay. They put us actually in the Grand Hotel. It's called the Grand Hotel. They paid for the suites, paid for everything, and they said we could stay there till if we had any relatives in Sweden we could go to them. I think we stayed about a week. And every day my parents would go down to the harbor to see if my grandparents had come. They were still...and, and, and an old aunt I had, my grandfather's sister. They were still in Denmark when we fled. And a few days later, four, five, days later, they came on another fishing boat. | ||
| Copyright © United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Washington, D.C. | ||||
