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This is an extract from a story written by my uncle, Werner Simon. (You can find the full text of the story here.) 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 Werner's own. Walter Simon, his brother, was my father.

November 1938

This ^{About links} brings back to most German Jews the horrors of persecution and hate, of suffering and hard labour, of separation and murder. I don't 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 not 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 'very good' in any subject, however much we tried.

The murder of Von Rath on 7 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. Many shops and stores put up notices, 'Jews prohibited'. 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 programme, 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' fear of being found in the wrong place. We also did not dare to make any comment about news or current affairs, 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 'the war of nerves'.

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 would like to recount one of the many tragedies which took place on that Friday. My friend's father had gone away for the day on business with his small boy, aged nine, while 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, while 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 cannot 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. 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.

Kristallnacht

The night of 9 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.

Leo is taken

We had all come home except Daddy, and were getting ready for the Sabbath. (My eldest sister's name was Martha, and she was about 16 years older than me. Seems funny that we always called her 'Daddy', even when we did not know what it meant, but it proved to be right, because after my father died she was our 'Daddy', and so I will continue to call her by that name throughout this story.)

Leo was just having some tea when the doorbell rang. We opened the door and two men stood there, and at once pushed in past mother standing in the doorway. She said, 'Good evening', 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, 'Are you Leo Simon?' to which he replied, 'Yes'.

'We want you to come with us. But finish your meal first whilst we have a look around.' 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. 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 - 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's 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's 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. 'What name?' the official asked her, and on giving the name, was handed an urn, containing her husband's ashes.

Refugees

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.

The next month was spent in buying things for Leo to take. All mother's savings were spent. 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 he 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, 'That is the first.' 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 mother's struggle when she had to ask Daddy for money.

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 £1 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, 26 June 1939, 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's 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't 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, 30 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!

At the station, Mother told me that I would have to look after Walter, which made me quite proud. After all, I was only 14 years old myself. Presently the train came in, and we had to say goodbye. It is impossible to describe one's feelings on paper, when one kisses one's mother for possibly the last time, and neither can I imagine a mother's feelings when she sees 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 committees 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's spirits up.

Germans in England

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 'refugee'. 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.

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. 'May they enjoy it,' 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!

Evacuated to Bognor Regis

The billeting officer took about 20 children down a certain road in Bognor Regis, and knocked at every house asking how many and which children they would like. 'He is selling his goods well,' 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, 'We'll have those three!' 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 — filthy! 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, 'Third time lucky'. Well, as far as homes in England went, this was true 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. 'You were happy here weren't you?' 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…!

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.

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.

A scattered family

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-free life, and reunite 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. Ruth was then nursing in an isolation hospital in Chinley near Stockport, after being taken advantage of by the people who brought her to England, and had a very unhappy time. So I saw it as my responsibility to make her happy, but unfortunately no further step worked out for her to live with us.

Then the first blow happened to stop this new planning. 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 before. He had joined the police force and was enjoying himself very much. From that day onwards we had no further news, and we did not know whether Leo was still working or not.

I forgot to mention that I started work on 4 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's 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's signature was getting less and less legible, and I was beginning to fear that the doctors' warning was coming true. I knew that mother was worrying, more about Leo perhaps than us, but besides that she 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 16 August 1939, less than a month before war broke out. Part of it read: 'Today we can send only a card, because we are very busy, as Eric's 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.'

The next card came on 1 September: 'The Dutch shipping company desires a few more forms filled in, and so because of post delay, Eric cannot reach Rotterdam in time, and so won't sail till the 28th.'

What a blow! With what serious consequences! The last card on the subject reached us a few days later. It read: 'Sending 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 Marseille, then ship to Batavia, change to Sydney. Want to say a lot, but space is short, so all my love, Signed, Eric.'

On the back of the postcard was the following; 'Have not flown, catching train to Switzerland. Eric. 29.8.39.'

Below that, written on the 31st: 'Have come back home, could not get across frontier, even though I had all my papers… Signed Eric.'

Can you imagine Mother's 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's signatures, and my heart went almost dead cold as fear gripped it with the doctor's words ringing through my ears, 'Worry is fatal…'

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 25 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, 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 Grandfather's 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 80-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 'away'. 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... how can there be. There can only be reconciliation.

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