大象传媒

This story was written by my Uncle Werner Simon.
It is a recount of the events leading up to the start of WW2 as experienced by the Simon ( Zimon ) family, Jews who lived in Halle East Germany. The words are Werners own, i have not changed anything.
Walter Simon his brother, was my father.

Since I left home, I have seen many places, towns and villages, but I have never yet come across one which is as perfect as Halle. Maybe I think so because Halle is my hometown, or, maybe, it really is better; but for what-ever reason, I shall always be glad to see it again. As I think back I can remember the old town with its big church and market square; its small houses and narrow streets, and further out the more modern buildings, wide roads, trees and open squares. In front of the town hall in the market square stands a statue of the great musician Handel, who was born in one of the smallest houses, standing amongst the oldest and dirtiest buildings in the old part of the town. Halle is proud of the man who has given music and joy to all the world, yes, she is proud of the great Handel.
The market square is surrounded by big shops and warehouses, and in it stands the biggest church of the town. The whole of the old town was surrounded by a wall, but only a little is left of it. The tower which marked the entrance into the town is still standing, and it makes one marvel at the hard work and patience which was put into the protection of the homes and families many years ago. The massive tower has no windows, only a few holes, which could be used for shooting out of, and the door is small and easy to defend. Many people must have had all their security in that tower, which now looks upon the main traffic of a big town.
As you leave the market square either by one of the many trams or on foot, no matter in which direction you go, the streets look in vain for gardens. It is only when you get right out of the town that the houses have front gardens or balconies.Halle has many interesting sights, churches, buildings, shops, theatre and cinemas, but when I get back, the first walk I would make is the one to the river, which flows right through the town. Once one reaches the banks of the river Saale, one can easily forget the crowded streets, traffic and noise, as the river spreads a peace which even the many boats, which travel up and down the stream in summer, cannot destroy. On the opposite bank are trees, grass and flowers and big bridges spanning the dark water .One side in town - the other side in country - and that idea, even though not quite true now, is memorised in one of the bridges. On one side it has a horse and the other a cow, both hewn out of stone.

How clearly I remember our Sunday walks, which led us through the town, across the river and on to the steamer. I liked the steamer because we boys could sit in the back, and we could reach the water there, as it took us to an island, which was formed by an arm of the Saale branching off and slowly making its way back again. That island, though only small, was a beautiful spot. Big trees gave shade to most of the island, little narrow paths winding amongst them and making the island seem bigger than it really was. Then, almost unexpectedly, the trees would get less and form a clearing, which was filled with tables and chairs belonging to a pretty little caf茅 situated in the background. The white tables and white chairs, the waiters dressed in white, made a very clean and comfortable impression. A soft tune, played by an orchestra, would drift across the clearing and mingle with the song of thousands of birds high up in the canopy. How we would enjoy a glass of ice-cold milk, with peace and quietness all around. But we children would not sit down for very long, as the children鈥檚 playground would draw us with irresistible force. There we would find everything to satisfy our desire for fun and adventure.
Even though I would like to write about all the attractions in and around Halle, I am sure that it would be too long. But I am certain that somewhere in this town everybody can find something interesting at any time of the year. Those who do not like water or rivers could walk through a big wood and sun themselves on grass amongst wild flowers with the birds providing music and animals entertainment. They could walk all the morning without meeting anybody, even though there may have been hundreds of people entering the wood from the tram stop. In winter this wood and the hills around would provide a very nice spot for winter sports. Other people would like to see the ruins of castles standing high up above the river on steep cliffs. One could not help admiring the skill and energy of those ancient master builders, who spared no cost or sweat to overcome the difficulties put in their way by nature. If their lord made up his mind to have a castle on the steepest hill, the builders would put it there, however steep the sides and regardless of the distance from the stores. From ancient to modern, Halle prides itself with a most modern, natural and valuable zoo. Large amounts of money have been spent to make this a place of nature, where animals live in surroundings as near as possible to those of their home. As one walks along a narrow path amongst palms, thinking of far-away Africa, one might suddenly hear a roar, and turning a corner, would find, a lion standing high upon some rocks, with sparkling eyes and jaws wide open. For a moment or two one would not notice the iron bars, which form a barrier between the lion and oneself. After a cold and snowy winter in Germany, everybody welcomes spring, which brings sun, flowers and leaves and wakes up sleepy nature. To see the real glory of spring, one has to go south of Halle. After a walk of about an hour one comes to the Saale again, but here it looks quite a different river. From one bank of the river, hills rise gently, and on these hills are hundreds of cherry trees. Can you imagine a more beautiful sight than these trees out in full bloom, looking like pink lace hanging down to the ground, and almost touching the soft spring grass?. Below and reflected in the waters of the river, the scene is awash in colour, scent and beauty.

I can not remember a great deal about my early life, and hardly anything about the time we spent in a fairly old house just by the old tower, which marked the entrance into the town. In that same house my brothers and sisters and I were born. We only occupied a flat, which had but one attraction for me, and that was the gas light. It always attracted my attention and even more so when mother would light it in the evening. It lit so slowly, but steadily, and I could easily watch it getting brighter and brighter. Another old-fashioned thing was our bath. We three youngest ones used to bathe in a small bath used for washing clothes, but we did not mind. We used to line up, youngest first, and wait our turn to splash in the water for a few minutes and no matter how quick mother was washing us, we would always manage to splash out half of the water onto the kitchen floor, this of course annoyed the neighbours, our kitchen floor was their ceiling鈥�.
Even when we were quite small we used to make our walks to the river. I am told, that I was very lazy and did not like walking, but would much rather sit on the pram, which was occupied by my smallest brother. It was on one of these walks that I learnt a great lesson about nosiness or, shall I say, disobedience! I suppose I was told to walk, and that put me into a bad temper, and when the maid told me to hold onto the pram until we were out of the town, I was completely upset. I can still remember her saying, 鈥淚f you are not good and hold onto the pram, then the bad man will come and fetch you!鈥�, quite a usual sort of threat which I had heard many times before. So I just waited until I had an opportunity to 鈥榩ay back鈥�.
I was always very interested in motor cars, especially as I saw hundreds every day, but I had never looked inside one. So, when out walking one day, I saw a big shiny car draw up almost in front of us, I was quite overcome with joy. I looked up at the maid and to my great relief found that she was looking in a shop window as we passed. So I began to walk slower and gradually dropped behind. Then we reached the car, I let go of the pram and jumped onto the side of the car and looked in.
But my satisfaction with myself did not last long. In less than a second I had fallen off onto the footpath, crying and almost shouting for help. Then I jumped up and followed the maid and my brothers. They asked me what had happened, and under many tears I told them that as I looked through the window, the 鈥榖ad man鈥� jumped out at me and barked. Actually it was only a small dog, which had jumped up against the glass window. And all the sympathy I got was, 鈥淪erves you right! 鈥�, these cruel people...!.

I must have been about four years old when we moved into our new flat. And, it was new! Grandfather took us to see it even before the houses were finished, and we climbed up and down on ladders and planks, viewing our new home from all angles. How much better it looked when we had all the furniture in. What an improvement upon our old home. Lovely big rooms, some with double windows to keep out cold, a balcony from which we could look onto the road and watch the people and traffic, a bathroom with a lovely big bath, which could hold my brother and me at the same time, (and we could splash without being afraid that the people below would complain because the water came through the ceiling) and best of all, it had an electric bell and door opener. I loved to play games with these with Eric, who was two years older than me. How often one would go downstairs to the front door and ring the bell for our flat and b-z-z-z- the door down-stairs would open?. How marvellous! Yes - it certainly was a lovely home, and in it we had a lot of fun, but also a number of sad hours.

Before I continue with my story, let me introduce my family.
First there was my father, a quiet man, who would not talk much about himself, not even to us, who knew very little of his past, his hardships during the last war, when he fought in France from beginning to end, or his parents or his work. But even though he had a hard life with plenty of worries and fears, he had a keen sense of humour, and his face always expressed satisfaction and love.
When he came home from his job in a big warehouse, where he was book-keeper and cashier, he would sit in his big armchair, light a cigar and read the paper, whilst one of us fetched his indoor shoes and took off the others. He would sit there as long as we would let him, which was not very long, I assure you. Soon one of us boys would climb onto his lap, and the other sit on his foot, and we would have a few minutes of real fun. He never got tired of us worrying him.
One thing, which I am sure, is one of the main reasons why my home was such a happy one, was that deep, honest, heartfelt love of his for mother. Not once, as far as I can remember, have I heard even one word of quarrel or annoyance or self-pity amongst them, and even raised voices were very, very seldom to be heard. Every morning, when he was going off to work he would kiss mother goodbye, no matter whether he was tired, worried, late or ill. He would not let his own feelings come between mother and himself. The deep love, which he had for her, he had for us children too. He did not have any favourites, and he did not prefer my two sisters to us, as so often is the case. He would never go out to enjoy himself, by himself, away from his wife and family. No, his greatest pleasure was in the home with his family, and there was not much he would prefer to an evening at home.
Yes, Dad was a good man, one who would - no, could not hurt anybody either with word or action and I am not the only one who thought so; no all our friends and even God thought the same, which I will prove later on. My mother was as good, as kind-hearted and as loving as Dad. She felt responsible to repay him for his kindness to herself and us, and she made his life as easy as possible and she was a good mother. She brought up six children, without loosing her temper or getting tired of us or the amount of work we made. She would work all day to keep us clean and that was a job!. Her father is the only one of my grandparents I knew. He lived in the same town, and enjoyed playing with us as much as he did with his own children, it was always a special treat to go and see grandfather, who would make us a cup of coffee on his big iron stove. His small kitchen was always so snug and warm, and the big cat would come and play with us.
I always took my parents love for granted, and I am ashamed to say that I repaid them very little. Now that I have seen more homes, or shall I say 鈥榟ouses鈥�, with children running wild, parents quarrelling or separated, grandparents not allowed to enter the house, it breaks my heart to think that I so little honoured my parents and so little appreciated my home where joy, love and honest faith in God were the rule.
My eldest sister鈥檚 name is Martha, and she is about sixteen years older than I am. Seems funny that we always called her 鈥淒addy鈥�, even when we did not know what it meant, but it proved to be right, because in the end she was our 鈥淒addy鈥�, and so I will continue to call her by that name throughout this story, and father will be Dad.
My eldest brother Leo is eleven years younger than Daddy, but even though he always seemed to be very 鈥済rown up鈥� to me.
I always loved Daddy, but respected Leo, and was always more or less afraid of him. Not that he bullied us, oh no, but he used to have his own cupboard, which he kept locked up, and he used to shave and wear long trousers, and all this used to impress me. But what made me feel smaller than anything was the way he would look down on myself and Eric, when Eric (who is only two years older than I) quarrelled with me, which was not very seldom. Leo鈥檚 look seemed to say, 鈥榊ou poor children, you may grow up one day!鈥�.
Next on the list is Ruth, my second and last sister, about three years younger than Leo, and two older than Eric. She is very much like mother, the same soft loving heart, that true kindness and great ambition. She loves her younger brothers and simply adores Dad, and enjoyed being cared for by Daddy.
After Ruth there is Eric, myself and Walter. Eric set the pace for me in everything, and there was always a sort of competition between myself and Eric; and even though I knew that he was better than me in everything, I always tried to keep up with him. Eric鈥檚 character was very much like Leo鈥檚 - very determined and, keen to better himself; his feelings were always under control and his joy was in nature, and so it was not surprising that he started work with a market-gardener.

Now only Walter, the 鈥楤aby鈥� is left. He is two years younger than I and at home he really was the baby. We all enjoyed caring for him and playing with him, and, he even had to take turns spending about ten minutes with either Eric or me in our bed before going to sleep. In most homes the youngest is disliked by his brothers and sisters, because he is mostly the Parents favourite, but we were not at all Jealous, even though we quarrelled sometimes. My life at school was not very exciting, and nothing out of the ordinary happened to me. I started school when I was five and a half and I was quite good and always tried to please the teacher, and I mostly succeeded, but one day my teacher was trying to teach a backward child to read, when I turned round and laughed at the child鈥檚 mistakes. Well, it sounded so silly and I did not mean any harm, but it upset the teacher and I received my first smack. Oh was I ashamed!. It made me quite a good boy for some time.
The next school I went to was a very modern school, where my friend and I (the only one I had) enjoyed special privileges, because we managed to get into the teacher鈥檚 good books. I remember one day when we had nothing else to do but to look after our teacher鈥檚 little boy, with whom we went for walks, or to see the film show which our teacher gave at the school. It was in this school that I took the first notice of Hitler coming into power. The first signs were very confusing to me, as on any special occasion we used to see three different kinds of flags hanging from the windows. There was the black- red-gold, which was Hindenburg鈥檚 flag, the black-white-red, which I believe was Hitler鈥檚 before he used the swastika and the hammer and sickle, the communist flag.

I was never very interested in politics, and my parents did not talk much about things on that subject, but I remember the first time my pride was hurt so much that I almost cried. Everybody had their flags out, and the black-white-red became more and more general, but we still had the black- red-gold. It hung from the loft window and almost reached the flat below. As my brother and I came out of the house, I happened to look up and exclaimed, 鈥淟ook, our flag is the biggest and prettiest of all!鈥� At the same moment a boy shouted, 鈥淭hat dirty old rag, you ought to pull it down, everybody has black-white-red鈥�.
I remember quite well the first of Hitler鈥檚 鈥済ood鈥� deeds. We were at school and one morning the teacher said, 鈥淚 want you all to line up in the corridor in one hour鈥�. Of course we all wondered what was going to happen. As we lined up we saw loudspeakers fixed up the wall, and a few moments later the Fuhrer鈥� s voice announced the liberation of the Saar. He told the nation how, after the Great War, France took the province, to take out all the coal she could in so many years, 鈥渂ut now鈥� he shouted, 鈥渢he German people of the German Saar have returned to the German fatherland!鈥� Then we had to stand to attention and sing, 鈥淕erman in the Saar, German now and always!鈥�
In the secondary school I did not manage to become the teacher鈥檚 favourite, and so very soon fear became the ruling factor in my life at school, and with fear came superstition. I remember one thing I always did and that was to say 鈥淕ood night鈥� three times, or else I would go wrong the next day. Another thing was to go back every time I stumbled over my right foot, and many more silly things like that.
But the fear grew and grew, and even though I worked hard I was always afraid to make a mistake, and because of that fear I made more than was necessary. I remember that I reached the climax when the teacher made me take French against my will. He said that as I was good in English, I must take French. I hated the lessons and so did not seem to get on, and I feared the tests, which were made every week. So in the end I wrote out the whole lessons on little pieces of paper, and intended to use them when
I was tested. I had done that for a whole week, but had no need for them, until one day, when I was told to go to the blackboard and write out something, whilst the teacher went on with the lesson. I thought he was not looking and copied from the paper, but my conscience pricked me so much, that I did not hide the paper when the teacher out, "Simon, what are you doing?". Yes, I was caught the first time and how I dreaded facing mother and all because I could not get over this fear, as at home I could answer any questions and worked hard, and even slept on my books, because I had heard that that helps one to remember. Dad always Knew when he had to sign my schoolwork, whether it was good or bad, as if it was good I would show it to him at dinner-time, whilst when it was bad I would wait until the last possible moment at night and then pretend I had forgotten it. How silly and hopeless to try to deceive parents!

During all these years anti-Jewish demonstrations became more and more, but I can not remember how it all began. The first definite proof I had was when Eric and I were on a holiday in the country, and a Jew was stabbed in the back and nobody took any notice of the murderer, but they just removed the body and that was the end of the matter.

Above I stated that mother was a good mother, and I would just like to tell a story to prove the statement. Many people think that the way to cure sin is to punish and if a child is disobedient it should suffer and so be cured. Many regard punishment as caring for the punished.
Well, mother was doing the washing in the wash-house, which was in the yard. Eric and I were upstairs, playing in our room. Somehow we got into the dining room, where the side- board stood, which mother mostly kept locked, because she had her papers etc. in it. That same day we found the keys in the lock, and so we opened the door and searched for - well we did not quite know what for. Anyway, after a short time we found a tin, which was filled with a special kind of biscuit, which we all liked very much, and which mother had bought as a treat. So without much thought Eric and I tried one, just one, but this was followed by another and so on. Before long the tin was almost half empty, and we were quite full.
It was not till then that we realised what we had done. So we went back into our room and pretended to play, but all the time listening for my mother鈥檚 footsteps. At long last they came, she looked in, but we did not look up. "I鈥檒l get the tea in a minute", she said, and went into the kitchen. No more did we hear then, and we got more and more worried.鈥� Shall we go and tell her?鈥� suggested Eric. "No, not yet, She may not notice", I replied, rather hopefully. Half an hour passed, and still no sound, "Tea must he ready soon" said Eric, just to break the unbearable silence. "I don鈥檛 want any tea" was the only reply I could make. A few more minutes passed, and at last Eric said "Let鈥檚 go out and see whether she has been in the room". I did not have any better plans to suggest, and so Eric gently opened the door, and I, just as gently, closed it. Then we went into the kitchen, and as we entered we found mother, head in her hands, crying quietly, and tears running down her cheeks.
I looked at Eric and he looked at me, and in less than a second we hung on mother鈥檚 neck, crying loudly, and then sobbing and almost choking, trying to explain and to apologise. I can not remember stealing anything out of mother鈥檚 cupboard again. The cure was simple. Mother had seen that she had failed to bring us up without us learning not to take things. She had never refused anything, and yet we did not ask.
So she cried, because she saw her failure. Of course nothing is worse than seeing a mother鈥檚 tears, and both Eric and I regretted our deed so much that we cried as much as mother, who, after, did not say anymore about the matter and I don鈥檛 think she even told Dad, as many other mothers would have done. So, that is the way we were brought up and that is why our home was one where there were no rows. We children were not perfect, no, by no means, we were just ordinary, but our parents knew how to bring us up.


I can not remember many sad hours, not until the first hard and seemingly unbearable blow struck our family. This blow was Dad鈥檚 death.
It was a Friday evening, (nearly all our troubles and trials started on a Friday) which marks the beginning of the Sabbath, Gods Holy day. It was the fourth of December, 1936, and the 40th. Anniversary of my father鈥檚 "Bar mitzvah", which is the becoming of age, when a Jewish boy becomes responsible for his actions before God, or in other words, when he becomes a man. My father was 53. The doctor had been, because mother was not well, and I remember Dad saying to him, "I hope we won鈥檛 have to disturb you again, because you want your rest, don鈥檛 you" and both laughed. Then father thanked mother for the lovely flowers which she had placed on the table in his honour.

Dad was full of humour, as we ate our evening meal, which was always extra nice on a Friday night. After we had finished, we went to wash up and somehow the subject seemed to return to death every time. We talked about people dying, different ways of death, and so on, but at last mother Said, "Oh let us forget about that subject now. Dad would not like to hear us talk like this, but I know that the best death is heart-failure, and that is a sign of God that that person did not deserve any punishment, and therefore was a good person all his life.鈥� After that we dropped the subject, and went into the dining room, where Dad was smoking a cigar and reading the paper By then it was time for us three boys to go to bed, which we dragged out as long as possible. But at last we did say "good night" and went to bed. The others were reading and talking and generally in a good mood, which was nearly always the case on the Sabbath.

Soon Walter had gone to sleep, but Eric and I talked quietly. But suddenly we heard someone rushing into the kitchen, mother called for cold water, someone else had gone out of the front door, seemingly in a great hurry, and within a minute there was a great rushing and hurrying. Eric and I could not make out anything, and soon we heard Leo come back, saying that the doctor was not in, but that he had phoned the Jewish doctor, "Doctor?鈥� Whatever had happened? We were worried, but did not leave our beds, because we knew that they thought we were asleep. But at last, as nobody came into our room, I decided to pretend to go into the bathroom, and try to see what had happened in the dining room.

As I looked through the small space which the door left open, I saw the whole room, and the scene I saw, I cannot forget. Dad was laying out full length in the armchair, legs resting on a stool, just as he had done when we said "Goodnight".
Mother was by his side, his shirt was wide open and mother was applying cold water to his heart. Ruth was leaning her head against Daddy, and Leo stood with a grim-set face in the centre of the room. All had tears in their eyes, but mother was really crying.
At once I Knew what had happened, and in less than a second I was back in bed,hiding my face under the bedclothes, trying to banish this picture from my mind.

A few minutes later the bell rang, and, we heard the doctor鈥檚 light steps, and as he entered the dining room, we could hear him say,鈥� I am of no more use". These words expressed regret and sympathy at the same time, and a moment later someone turned on the light on in our room. Slowly I pulled the bedclothes off my head, and I saw mother standing in the middle of our room. I can see her now, as if it only happened yesterday and not seven years ago. Her face, bathed, in tears was raised to the ceiling, eyes closed and lips moving as if in silent prayer, and hands folded on her chest. She did not speak for a moment, even though her lips continued to move, but suddenly, as if she had overcome a fight inside herself, she whispered, lowering her eyes onto us, "Boys, you have no father from now on". These few simple words have stuck in my mind together with the picture of mother as she stood in our room, trying to break the news, which she herself could not yet grasp as truth. Then still weeping, she quietly went to Walter鈥檚 bed, and looked at him with such sorrowful eyes, as if to say, "Poor boy, what a small body to hear such a hard blow", but after she looked down on him for a minute or too, she turned away, whispering, "So, I can not wake him. Let him sleep in peaceful sleep, given by God, Poor boys". With a last sorrowful look, our broken hearted mother left us, quietly closing the door.
Next morning soon found that it was reality. Even though I went to sleep Just after mother had left us, I woke up when Leo called Eric to pray for Dad. I followed quietly, and found mother holding Dads lifeless hand, Ruth still supporting herself against Daddy, and Leo and Eric praying a Hebrew prayer for Dad. They all had controlled their feelings and so I knew that tears would not help, but even though as Leo and Eric went on with the prayer, I could not help noticing the shiny eyes, which alone expressed the deep sorrow in all our hearts. Dads face alone expressed that same satisfied smile which made us love him and the body seemed to repeat mother鈥檚 words, spoken earlier in the evening, but I know that the best death is heart-failure, which is a sign of God that, that man did not deserve it. Dad, certainly did not deserve it and we found later that his death, so peaceful and painless at the time, was a way in which God saved him all the cruelties, which men would have let out on him and which his kind, loving heart, would have never been able to bear. Death is not the worst thing.
People soon began to take advantage of the fact that we had no protecting father in the home, and, it was only half a year later when mother received a letter, informing her that she would have to leave the flat within a time limit, as the owners could not permit Jews to live in their houses.
This was a blow, as this flat held so many things and memories, dear to us. But we knew that it was no use trying to change the owner鈥檚 attitude. Besides, it would not be difficult to get another flat, perhaps not so comfortable, but maybe less expensive. Anyhow, mother and Daddy, who began to take responsibility for us, went out to find a new home. I do not know how many places they went to, but I do know the answer was the same every time they mentioned they were Jews. The doors seemed closed to us, not only one but all.
As time went on, mother became quieter and quieter, and later more and more worried, and one day, perhaps only a week before the notice was up she was resting on the sofa and as I watched her, tears began to fill her eyes. She looked around the room as though she was looking for someone, one who could help and comfort her, and at last her eyes rested on Dads picture. At that moment she must have been picturing her children running about the street with no home to go to, with none to love them or care for them and all that because the man she loved so dearly, was a Jew.

Suddenly she lifted her head, heavy with worry and fear, and a gleam of hope passed over her tired face, and a Second later the bell rang. I went to open the door and called back, "It鈥檚 only the postman". I did not realise that the postman was the man mother was waiting for, or that the letter he brought contained either all the hope or all the worry of the family. Mother took the letter and looked at it, her lips moving in silent prayer. Then she opened the envelope, but still hesitated to unfold the letter. At long last she read the few lines and tears filled her eyes. I looked at her, getting worried, but as she looked up, I read the news in her eyes, and putting my arms around her neck I too began to weep. Why? I do not know, because God had answered our prayers. We had a new home.

Little did we imagine that with entering this new flat we entered a new period of our lives, one where, joy and fun were forced to the surface, and worry and disappointments were daily experiences. Daddy had spent all her savings on making this a comfortable and beautiful place, one where mother could rest from the hard life she had, and where we could grow up into a joyful future.

Trouble started or shall I say continued, half a year after we moved. Leo had just finished his four year training as printer, which meant he would be able to earn more money.
He was proud, because he hated seeing Daddy, a woman, having to earn money to keep Walter, myself and also help out mother, whose low pension did not go very far. Eric had just started work in a nursery, but did not earn enough to buy his clothes, and Ruth had only just enough to keen herself. So now you will understand why I said that Daddy became our 鈥榝ather.鈥�

Leo鈥檚 joy of being able to help Daddy did not last very long. Less than a month later, Leo came home with an arm swollen to three times its normal size. He had cut it, and when he came home, he went to the doctor right away. The doctor told him that it was poisoned, but how seriously he could not tell. Later on in the evening Leo suddenly felt hot and cold, which is a sign of fever. So I ran across to the doctor, but he just advised us to take him to hospital. Daddy always calm and clear-headed in an emergency at once called a taxi, and a few minutes later they were on their way to the hospital.

This was the first time that a member of our family was in hospital, and the first night seemed like a dream, every now and. then I woke up and saw a light in mother鈥檚 bedroom, and sometimes she was kneeling, praying for her eldest son鈥檚 safety, as she knew that he would have to bear the responsibility of her family.
The following Sunday mother and Daddy went to see Leo, who was still very ill, and then the doctor told them that if Leo had reached the hospital one hour later than he did, the poisoning would have killed him. As soon as he came to the hospital about eight at night, they had to operate on the arm and four days later they were not certain whether they would be able to save the arm. Mother was very brave and did not complain to us, even though her cheerfulness, which had lessened with every new worry, had almost completely gone.

During that time, more and, more of鈥� our friends left Germany for all parts of the world. Some went to relations, others to friends, and some left, not knowing where they were going to build a new home for themselves or for their families. The faces which we saw in the synagogue, the only place where most Jews met, as other meetings were not allowed in greater numbers, became more serious, and before very long nearly everybody had someone to shed tears for.
My best friend left for England whilst we were on holiday together. One morning his mother 鈥榩honed up from home, telling him that she was going to meet him, and next day he would sail for England. We were getting used to hurried departures like this so we did not mind very much not being able to say 鈥榞ood bye鈥� properly, as we knew that we may never see one another again. In that respect the hurried journeys were better; there was no time for worries and sadness. I believe Leo was in hospital for about a month. When he came home, he was still the 鈥榖ig brother鈥�, never complaining and always ready for fun. Whilst he was in hospital and later, I was getting ready f or my 鈥楤ar mitzvah鈥�, which, as I explained before, takes place on the 13th Birthday.
On the fourth of June 1938 the great day came. Mother and my sisters and brothers, all came to the service on that Saturday morning. I was very nervous and yet proud. . Before we went in they wished me all the best and I looked in mother鈥檚 sad, eyes and was determined to help her to be proud of her Son.
The first sign of being 鈥済rown up鈥� was that I sat with Eric and Leo, as before Bar mitzvah the children usually sit in front. The ladies sat upstairs in the gallery. During the service, a part of the book of Moses is read, and on ones Bar mitzvah the boy reads a portion, which is for the first time in his life. I knew my part quite well, but I was not sure whether I would be able to sing it properly. But still, I believe that it went off鈥� all right. After I had done my part, the rabbi went up to the altar and standing above me, spoke to me about my duties for the future and. the meaning of that important day. His kind eyes almost shed tears as he talked about Dad and the sad, and seemingly hopeless future. And yet he spoke with a firm voice, thus making me believe that there was a God, who took care of us, and that all would come right, if I obey Gods commandments. After the blessing I turned round to go back to my place, and my eyes caught sight of mother, leaning over the side of the veranda, staring at the empty seat, where Dad used to sit, but where I would sit in a few seconds. I then realised, that I was, from now on, responsible for the happiness of mother and the rest of the family. I, at last, was equal to Leo. At least, so I thought, but later in the day, he kept on reminding me that he still was so many years older and therefore still my big brother!

November 1938.

This eventful month brings back to most German Jews the horrors of persecution and hate, of suffering and hard labour, of separation and murder. I don鈥檛 think that there was even one Jew not struck by this sudden outburst of long stored. up hatred. I do not remember the real start of it all. For quite a time Jews were despised, and we boys were known as Jews everywhere, and we heard shouts of spiteful rudeness wherever we went. But still we did -tot have to suffer very much at school, even though we sat by ourselves, were not allowed to take part in sports or competitions, in case we were better than the others, and we could never get 鈥榲ery good鈥� in any subject, however much we tried.

The murder of Von Rath on the seventh of November was the beginning of the sudden and final outburst and attempt to wipe out all Jews from Germany. I do not know who the man was or how he was murdered, but we very soon felt the result of that murder.

First of all, no Jew was allowed to go to any sort of entertainment, not to pictures, theatres, hotels, and even many shops and stores put up notices, 鈥楯ews prohibited.鈥� . Once one of our cousins, not a Jew, came to visit us and invited us to go the pictures. We went, but fear of being caught spoilt the whole program, and we sat in the front row never turning around. Another time a circus came to the town, but I was afraid to go to the box to get a ticket, and so all Jews began a life of鈥� fear of being found in the wrong place. We also did not dare to make any comment about news etc. as secret police were everywhere, or might have been everywhere. Hitler started by driving fear into every Jew, fear of doing or saying the wrong thing, and this method became later known as 鈥楾he war of nerves鈥�.

But anybody could live without Pictures and without saying what they think. The next step was transportation. One day in November we came home from School, and a short time later Eric came home from work. He looked very upset, and after a number of questions he explained that his mate, (a lad of about 19) was taken away from work and sent to the police station. Nobody had time to ask questions, and all Eric could do was to assure us that his friend did not do anything wrong. This was true, and yet we knew that in those days anything could be wrong if it was wanted to be, even being a Jew.

Next day was Saturday, and we went to the usual service. We found out that all polish Jews, that is any Jew whose parents or grandparents were Polish, were all sent to the Police station. A week later we heard that they were taken to the Polish frontier, where they were crowded together at night and with German soldiers behind them, were driven across the frontier. The Poles naturally sent them back again, but they were met by German machine guns. Then the Poles did the best they could for these thousands of Jews, taken from their homes without goods or money, families divided and nowhere to go. They built camps, but diseases spread quickly, and the poor Poles did not know what to do. They tried to save as many as they could, but did not succeed. Little did they imagine that a year later, Poland itself would receive the full terror and hatred of Hitler.

I do not intend to give details, but I would like to tell one, of the many tragedies, which took place on that Friday. My friend鈥檚 father had gone away for the day on business with his small boy, aged 9, whilst my friend and his mother were at home. The Gestapo (Secret police) came and took my friend and his mother and sent them with the rest to Poland, whilst his father was on his way home. When his father reached home and found his wife gone, he lost his nerve, and a week later we heard that he had taken the next train to Poland, but got off at the frontier as he had no passport. So he took his boy and carried him all night until they had crossed the frontier, all the time risking being shot by either German or Polish guards. But he got across safely and met his family, ill, tired and worn out. He paid this cost to reach freedom, and now? Yes, what now? I do not know, but I, and everyone else can imagine!

Things now happened rapidly, so rapidly that I can not remember dates. It must have been about a week later when Eric came home in the same state of worry, from the Jewish cemetery, where he had to look after a few graves for his boss. Before long he told us that the Gestapo came to the cemetery and kicked out the young man that looked after the graves and began to demolish the whole place, and finally locked and sealed up the gates, which meant that no Jew could visit the graves of their dear ones or bury Jews there. That act of breaking the law of humanity was only the beginning of wiping out the Jews in Germany, Europe and given time, the world.

The night of the eleventh of November was a night when all the devils were let loose. The Hitler youth and Nazis had an opportunity to revenge the disobedience of the Jews as they called it. During that night every Jewish family woke up, hearing the smashing of glass, and banging on the doors. The synagogue was broken open, the holy scrolls torn out of the holy of holies, and thrown onto the floor. Then the rabbi was dragged from his house and forced to set light to them, after which the other Nazis threw into the fire every prayer book or other holy thing they could find, and at last the fire engine had to be called, because the flames threatened houses close by. Not one Jewish shop had a window or goods in it, and the whole town was able to see where Jews lived.
But even this was not the end. Next day was Friday, and we began to dread the day, which once was the beginning of rest, because we knew that Nazism had no respect for law, religion or God... And true enough, our family, not hit the night before, was broken up then.
We had all come home except Daddy, and were getting ready for the Sabbath. Leo was just having some tea, when the door-bell rang. We opened the door and two men stood there, and at once pushed in past Mother standing in the doorway. She said 鈥� Good Evening鈥�, but the only reply she got was the turning up of the coat collar, which at once told us that we had nothing good to look forward to. They went into our dining-room, and, seeing Leo asked, 鈥淎re you Leo Simon?鈥� to which he replied. 鈥淵es鈥�. 鈥淲e want you to cone with us. But finish your meal first whilst we have a look around 鈥�. Was this kindness, pity or an attempt to draw out the agony?

They then proceeded to look through all the rooms, but found very little, except Jewish symbols, which they put into their cases.
At last one looked onto the cupboard, and found a red cardboard hat, which had a piece of cardboard fixed on top to make horns.
He looked at it, then at us, and at last asked what it was. Apparently they had found several like it before, and thought it was some secret sign. But they were wrong; it was just a hat, which eight of us children had when we were devils in a play. So, after trying to make his mind up, whether to believe us or not, he threw it back onto the cupboard, and we could not help smiling.

Until they took Leo out of the house mother had not shed a tear, but as they shut the door behind themselves she burst out into a heartbreaking weeping. She lay down on the sofa, and suddenly her tear stopped running down her wrinkled cheek. She looked at the candles, which she had lit, ready for the Sabbath; and whispered 鈥淕od would have taken him when he had his bad arm. He is too good to save just to be murdered鈥�. That new thought was a comfort to us all even though we knew where Leo and thousands of other Jews were going to that night. It was a sad Sabbath.

Now came an anxious and trying time for every Jew in Germany. There were several ways one might escape the concentration camps. One was to get abroad; here are examples of other methods;
A man was suddenly sent home from a camp but was given no reason for his unexpected release. He came home and called to his wife, but received no answer. Intending to hang up his coat in the cupboard, he opened the door, and there found his wife - dead. She had committed suicide, by hanging herself in the cupboard. When the Gestapo found her, they had let her husband go, but did not remove the body.
Which is worse 鈥� to be in a concentration camp, or find your wife dead, in order that you shall not suffer?
Another man came home, but found his door locked. Inquiring of neighbours he found out that his wife had declared that she did not want to be a Jew and was willing to become a Christian, or shall I say of a Nazi sanctioned religion. This meant that her husband鈥檚 money, house, and two boys were hers, and she had to refuse him entering the house. So he found a locked door, no home, no wife and no children. How he had loved his twin boys, only five years old! He had to go abroad, with nothing but what he had on.
Leo鈥檚 employer was imprisoned, but he did not stay there long. He hung himself almost as soon as he was locked in.

Another woman received a letter, telling her that she should go to the concentration camp and fetch her husband. She, full of joy, spent all her savings on a train ticket and made the long journey. Arriving at the concentration camp gates, she asked after her husband. 鈥淲hat name?鈥� the official asked her, and on giving the name, was handed an urn, containing her husbands ashes.

At the end of November we were not allowed to go to school any more, and also not to take up any employment. Those employed at the time could carry on, but I had to stay at home. At last we decided that I should go to the solicitor - whose story I have told you (his wife hanged herself in the cupboard) and work for him. How proud I was when I received my first weeks pay in January. Five shillings! And what I could do with five shillings!
I worked out plans (that if I worked so many weeks, and saved so much I could buy so and so鈥�) for mother, and so might give her a little enjoyment.
We received several letters from Leo, who was still cheerful and did not complain. Mother tried everything to get a passage abroad for him, and at last she succeeded. But what a future for Leo - and would he be pleased when he came home to find that a month later he would have to go to Shanghai? Yes, we had to face the fact that we had to break up the family, that there was no other hope.
At last the day came. We did not expect anything, but still we waited, in the hope that he would be coming home. We were all together, sitting and reading, and suddenly the bell rang. Our hearts made one leap, but all at once they almost dropped to the floor!
Was it Leo, or was it the Gestapo, come for Eric or Daddy? We did not know, and the bell rang again. Walter opened the door, and a second later Leo was with us again.
We all forgot that it would only be for a short time, and a few minutes later he was having a hearty meal of all the things mother had put back for the day when he came home.
I got my bike and raced as fast as I could to the home of Leo鈥檚 girlfriend, so that she could come and join us in our pleasure.
But as the opened the door and asked me what I wanted to tell them, I broke out in tears and cried and could not stop myself. They got worried and asked what had happened and I tried to tell them, and at last succeeded in exclaiming that Leo was home. Of course, they thought he was ill, but I tried to assure them that he was quite alright. Up until this day, I cannot understand why I cried then, when I had not shed a tear in public during all that time of persecution.
The next month was spent in buying things for Leo to take. All mothers鈥� savings were spent. Daddy unselfishly spent all her spare money on fitting out her 鈥渓ittle brother鈥�
(Who was two heads smaller than herself!). At last the day came, April the 25th!

Leo said goodbye and for the first time kissed me, and I felt that he was not that big brother anymore, but we all managed to control our feelings. Nobody went to the station with him, and as closed the door to leave, he also closed a door on his past joy and family.
We looked out of the window and watched his firm stride, never faltering, and his body straight and proud, never turning to wave, or call a last goodbye. What went on in his mind and heart is not difficult to guess, and mother said as she turned from the window,
鈥淭hat is the first鈥�. As Leo disappeared, her statement would sadly prove to be true.
Now that Leo had gone, the financial position became worse and worse, and mother had a lot of worry, especially as Daddy had to bear the main responsibility. I can still see mothers struggle when she had to ask Daddy for money.
It was usually left until the morning, and mother would be very quiet, and her kind eyes looked sad and worried. Then Daddy would come in for breakfast, and mother would wait to see whether she was going to have an opportunity to ask the most difficult question. She knew that Daddy would be quite willing to give her the money, but it seemed all wrong to poor mother, having to rely on her daughter. Then, just before Daddy would go, mother would get up her courage and overcome that inner fight, and by that time I almost cried, seeing mother鈥檚 agony. Sometimes mother would not bring it out at all, and then one of us would have to go to Daddy鈥檚 office and get some money. Oh it must have been hard for mother!

Through all these difficulties and worries, mother became ill. She did not have to stay in bed, but her body produced too much sugar, and our financial position did not permit her having the necessary diet. Mother would carry on looking after us, but the doctor warned Daddy that worry would be fatal for mother. How could she live without worry? Her son was somewhere on a three month journey on a crowded refugee ship. She had nowhere to go to in a country where war was already raging and knew so well that before long all her children would have to leave her. And so it was. In the beginning of May, Ruth received permission to take on a job as house maid in England with lodging and 拢1.00 a week. That seemed to be alright, and soon Ruth, too, had gone.

Who would be next? We did not have to wait long. One Thursday morning, it was the 26th of June 1939, when we received a letter, saying that the Emigration officer for our town had booked two places on a ship sailing for England, next Tuesday.

That left us exactly five days to get Walter and myself ready for leaving our home country and face the future without motherly protection. The following Saturday was to be shopping day and in the morning before Daddy went to work, we planned what necessities we had to buy. I could see in mother鈥檚 eyes that usual look of despair, but this time I did not cry, no, my heart almost made a jump of joy and pride. I had been working five months, and never during that time had mother asked me what I did with my money, even though I had not learnt to take care of money before.

At last mother said, that people won鈥檛 take love as payment, to which I replied that they need not, and I went to my drawer and took out a small tin, in which I used to put my savings.

Proudly I opened it and handed its contents to mother and tears of joy and pride filled her eyes. It was only 30 shillings, but they would buy a pair of shoes, Socks, a small case and one or two other things. What a joy to be able to surprise mother!

Tuesday, 30th June 1939!

Mother, Daddy, Walter and I went to the station and I was not a bit excited even though I had always looked forward to train journeys and, now it was even going to be a ship voyage! Yes, that was good, but I like a return journey, too!

On the station, mother told me that I would have to look after Walter, which made me quite proud. After all, I was only fourteen years old myself. Presently the train came in, and we had to say goodbye. It is impossible to describe ones feelings on paper, when one kisses ones mother for possibly the last time, and, neither can I imagine mothers feelings when she saw number three and four go, four of her children for whom she had, lived, suffered and cared, going into the world, without friends or relations.

The next few days were exciting and the new things we saw made it easier for us to forget we had left home. Besides, there were 200 other children, just like us, without parents, or a home. After a three day journey we reached England, which we entered with one shilling in money and a few clothes which we knew, would soon be too small for us. But still, we had nothing to worry about, because the different committee鈥檚 looked after us very well. I do not intend to give great detail about our life in England, because you all know that in England no one starves and all are free to speak and worship as they like.

We were to live with a lady and gentleman, both refugees like ourselves. They were to be our foster parents, but very soon we found the difference between a home and a house. These people were very kind but we were not included in the family. We had our meals in our room and our time by ourselves, and so naturally, homesickness soon took hold of us. I had a hard fight not to show it, as I had to keep Walter鈥檚 spirits up.

About a month later we had to go to school, and to my great surprise I was put with children aged ten and eleven, who at once began to treat us like Germans, even though we continually used the first English word we learnt, which was 鈥渞efugee鈥�.
They began to call after us, just like children had called after us in Halle, only instead of mocking us as Jews, they called us Germans. This was a great blow. That we had been sent away from home for being Jews was no fault of ours, now we were teased and mocked as Germans and that was not our fault either.
I did not talk about my feelings to anybody. So, we carried on, waiting for letters from home, which fortunately, came regularly. About six weeks after we arrived in England our cases came. A letter told us that Daddy had spent a good amount of money in buying chocolate for us, so that we would have something to help us over our homesickness, which they guessed we had!

As soon as the cases came, we looked into each one to try and find the chocolate, not just because it was chocolate, but because it was something from home.
There was nothing in the first case, or the second, but in the third we found some chocolate crumbs. Where was the chocolate which Daddy, Mother and Eric had bought for us with money they could ill afford to spend on such luxury?
In my mind I pictured an English censor, who on searching for banned material had discovered the chocolate, a luxury in England too. Now the censor sat munching German chocolate, sharing it with his wife and family, all sitting together by their own fireside.
鈥淢ay they enjoy it鈥� was all I could bring myself to say. The Englishman went down another grade in my mind. We Knew the German censor had passed the chocolate as OK, because mother was there when they sealed the cases and they were not opened until they reached England.

We had been in our new home only two months when we had to move again. This time it was evacuation and we were escaping Nazi bombing, War between England and Germany had started, and the Nazi hatred had spread to include not only Jews, but England and all democracies. So, on the first of September we said goodbye again, but not with such heavy hearts as before. We were in search of a third home. What would it be this time? We soon found out!

The Billeting officer took about twenty children down a certain road in Bognor Regis, and knocked at every house asking how many and which children they would like.
鈥淗e is selling his goods well鈥� I said to Walter, because that is just the feeling I had. Walter and a friend of ours, also a refugee, and myself, were appointed to a big lady who accompanied by two boys, came out of her house and said 鈥淲e鈥檒l have those three!鈥�, as though she was afraid someone might bid higher.

We went in, and I got to know the third type of home. The people were very kind and made us part of the family at once. Apart from us, there were three children in the family. But the house! There was only one word to describe it 鈥� filthy!
鈥淲e must have been very lucky at home鈥� remarked Walter, to which I replied 鈥渨hich is worse, being a piece of furniture or a zoo keeper!鈥�

We soon were at the local school, and after only a few days at the house, we could contain our disappointment no longer and told the teacher about it.

In England there is a saying 鈥淭hird time lucky鈥� well as far as homes in England, it was for us. We had not heard from Mother for over a week, and war had been declared about four days previous to that, and I began to worry and wonder whether we would hear from home again.

Then one evening, the big lady told us that the Billeting officer wanted us to move, but she did not want us to go. 鈥淵ou were happy here weren鈥檛 you?鈥� she kept on asking.
Very dishonestly, but politely, I continued to tell her that we were very happy. At the end of half an hour of this, she at last put on her hat and coat and told us to get ready and follow her.

For the third time, in less than half a year we were searching for a new home. When we reached the house, a gentleman opened the door. I managed to understand that he told the lady that he did not want boys but girls. The big lady expressed the hope that we may be able to go back to her house. I thought what a pleasure to look forward to鈥�!

But, we went in. and as we entered the house, I was at once impressed by the perfect cleanliness and tidiness of the place. At once I felt that this would be a place more like home. This feeling increased as we heard the laughter of several people, who were extremely happy.

I find, it very difficult to decide what to tell you about the last three years. The life in the new home, which really was a home, where we were part of the family, was really happy and for nearly two years everything went off perfectly. During that time we learnt a real belief in God, that he has a plan for every family, and, that we all are part of that plan. In that way we always planned everything together, and so were able to overcome all difficulties of language, religion, and family life.

For nearly one year we had no news from home, but then we received red-cross letters, and it was then that I began to make plans for the future, plans which would provide mother with a comfortable and worry - less life, and re-unite our family. My first idea was to meet Ruth, and so in September Walter and I went on holiday with Ruth and I felt very happy indeed that the first part of our reunion worked out so well. I would like to explain that Ruth is now nursing in an isolation hospital in Chinley near Stockport, after being taken advantage of by the people who brought her over here, and had a very unhappy time so far. So I saw it as my responsibility to make her happy but unfortunately no further step has worked out for her to live with us.

Then the first blow happened to stop this new planning without worrying. The Japanese attacked and captured Shanghai, about a month after we heard that Leo had his first job since he left home, almost three years ago. He had joined the police force and was enjoying himself very much. From that day onwards we had no further news, and we do not know whether Leo is still working or not.
I forgot to mention that I started work on the fourth of June, 1941. I took on a job on a farm nearby, and I was very proud to be able to pay for my own living, and not having to depend on committees and other people鈥檚 kindness. I was also able to play a very important part in winning the war against Nazism.

We continued getting and sending 25 word red-cross letters. But since the beginning of 1943 we noticed that mother鈥檚 signature was getting less and less readable, and I was beginning to fear that the doctors鈥� warning was coming true.
I knew that mother was worrying, more about Leo perhaps, than us, but besides that she has had a very trying time with Eric, who, when war was declared, was military age. A proof of her worry was a card, which we received on the 16th. Of August 1939, less than a month before war broke out. Part of it read:

鈥楾oday we can send only a card, because we are very busy, as Eric鈥檚 plans will be working out very soon. Next Monday, 21st, he will be leaving here, and on the 23rd, his birthday, board ship at Rotterdam and sail for Australia.鈥�

The next card came on the 1st. of September:

鈥淭he Dutch shipping company desires a few more forms filled in, and so because of post delay, Eric can not reach Rotterdam in time, and so won鈥檛 sail till the 28th.鈥�

What a blow! With what serious consequences! The last card on the subject reached us a few days later. It read:

鈥淪ending you our united love on our last evening together. Tomorrow morning, at 7.30 I shall board airplane to the Swiss border, then train to Marsaille, then ship to Batavia, change to Sydney. Want to say a lot, but space is short, so all my love, Signed, Eric.鈥�
On the back of the postcard was the following;

鈥淗ave not flown, catching train to Switzerland. Eric鈥�. 29.8.39.

Below that, written on the 31st.

鈥淗ave come back home, could not get across frontier, even though I had all my papers鈥� Signed Eric.鈥�

Can you imagine mother鈥檚 feelings in days like those? Saying goodbye, planning and working to get her son into safety, and then, because some careless person forgot to send a form, he has to come home again, because it is too late.
What about the future with a war at the front door?

I seem to have gone back on my story, but these were the thoughts and memories I had when I looked carefully at my mother鈥檚 signatures, and my heart went almost dead cold as fear gripped it with the doctors words ringing through my ears 鈥� worry is fatal鈥︹��

I expected the worst, and yet it seemed impossible when it happened.

It was Good Friday when we received a Red Cross letter. The day had been wet and miserable and had its effects on me. I too was miserable. Then the Red Cross letter, on a Friday.

I read it, and read it again and all feeling went out of me. With twenty five words the whole future was smashed, two years of planning and saving were wasted. Mother would never be able to enjoy it. I would not be able to repay her for her goodness and suffering.
Mother was dead.

Not a tear came into my eye, though I felt dead inside. Then, after sleepless nights a glimmer of hope, a light in the darkness came to me.
After all I thought, Mother has only gone to Dad, and God has taken her away from a cruel world that she did not deserve, a world in which people bring pain and suffering to each other. There was still Daddy and Eric, whom I must repay for their love and caring shown to Mother during her illness and suffering. In those dark days following these thoughts brought me comfort. I was to find that comfort foreshortened by events to come.

One week passed, one week during which distress and faith fought battle after battle inside myself, and Friday approached again. I came home from work and another Red Cross letter was waiting. With fear and trembling I opened it, and found Grandfathers signature. He wrote that Daddy and Eric were away. Poor Walter, he thought that they had taken a holiday. Oh.. how I wish I could think that. I knew Daddy too well, she would never leave eighty year old granddad by himself, however much she needed a holiday.
No, this letter meant something worse than that, but I kept those thoughts to myself.

At last, I heard confirmation from a friend that indeed, Daddy and Eric were 鈥渁way鈥�,
Not away on some holiday, but taken away, transported by the Nazis to Poland, to the concentration camps.

There is no happy ending to this story鈥� how can there be. There can only be reconciliation.

NB from inconyblue... Notes end here.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.