大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War
site by Vinod Ghadiali of Leicestershire Library Services on behalf of Anne Kind OBE, who came to England in 1934. The poems form part of Anne's reminiscences about aspects of her life. Many of these have been published in books and magazines. This has been added to this site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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I've known Hille from my earliest days. It's not surprising because we lived in the same house ever since I can remember.The house belonged to my parents and consisted of four apartments. On the ground floor was where Hille lived with her parents and her brother Axel.Her father was the owner of the hairdressing salon.We lived in the apartment on the second floor and we had a balcony.

Hille and I used to play together and my sister and Axel were hangers-on. They were younger than we were although I was four years younger than Hille.It didn't seem to matter to her playing with a younger girl. Somehow we just liked being together.

When some of my relatives came to visit they resented the fact that I was always out playing. Well, when you're a little girl that seems natural.
When Hitler came to power on January 30th 1933, Hille was fifteen and she had to join the Hitler Youth with its brown uniform and swastika arm band.

When my parents decided to emigrate to England in February 1934 Hille crept up to our apartment in her uniform to say good bye to me. We were both upset at the thought of not seeing each other again.
Arriving in England after a horrendous Channel crossing, I was overwhelmed by all the new things I had to take in, new language I couldn't speak, new customs, etc. It was not a happy time. I remember saying to my sister, "if only I could go back to Berlin." Little did I realise what was in store for the Jews who did not leave Germany.

I went to school and learnt English but never forgot my friend. We wrote to each other and I sent photographs of my new life. One day I said to my father,"If I save my pocket money would you help me to get Hille to visit us?"
My dad agreed and within a year I had saved up 拢2.10 and my father gave me the rest and we bought a return ticket for Hille to come to London.

We had a great time, delighted to see each other and I enjoyed showing her the sights od London and trying to teach her English.
She stayed with us for two weeks and then she went back. I wrote to her but didn't get a reply.

The war came and all thoughts of my friend were pushed into the background. I was evacuated and then returned to London during the last part of the war and in 1944 my father was killed by a doodle bug.
I started a nursing training and met my husband who was a doctor in hospital where I trained.

When the war was over I wrote to my friend again, hoping that she had survived it. I was overjoyed when I received a letter from her. Within a few months she came to visit me and my husband and two children.

She told me why she had been unable to write to me after her holiday with us in London in 1937. Her room had been searched by the Gestapo; they took all my letters and photographs and destroyed them and warned her never to get in touch with me again.

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HILLE

I remember you well
me running, you never catching me.
I was healthier and younger.
I never questioned
why your breathing
was not like mine

I looked up to
your imagination in
the games we played,
dressing up.

You with your thin body
spindly legs, blonde hair
blue Aryan eyes
ears pierced for rings.

Our games became real
when in your Nazi uniform
you crept up to our apartment
to say goodbye.

Thank you
for that gesture of defiance.

HERMSDORF BEI BERLIN May 1999

I sit on the well-worn terrace
Of my childhood, sipping coffee

Your street and mine, Hille
At the right angle of life.

We didn't mind cycling
On cobbled stones
The only smooth surface
Red tiles on the terrace.

That's where we played
With whips and tops
Hoops and sticks
Even the Nazis couldn't stop us.

Alone
I'm hop-scotching into old age.

DRESSING UP

You were Madame Le Blanc
In our charades
While I sat in another room
Dressing in white apron and white cap
Waiting for your call.

Yoy pressed the bell
I rose, to meet your every whim.

Far travelled, fashionable, trim
You lounged, Madame Le Blanc
The baby playing at your feet.

You, I little sister
Played these games
Immersed in phantom selves
And the tantalizing glitter
Of the adult world.

And when your enemies were at your door
You dressed up to masquerade as male
Avoiding rape and looting
And the victor's revelry.

Madame Le Blanc, I hear you crying
For all that degradation, all that dying.

Anne Kind
Leicester 2005

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