I can still picture that farewell
by Dorrith M Sim
I was born in Kassel, Germany in December, 1931. My parents, Vati and Mutti, Hans and Trude Oppenheim were very sporty people. They loved walking and climbing and in the wintertime skiing in the hills around Kassel. Vati also had a canoe in which we paddled down the River Fulda. I recall a festival with everyone in fancy clothes, the boats all decorated and the river aglow with water lilies.
Other memories are not so happy. We were walking by the Fulda one day when we were approached by a Brownshirt with his wife and daughter. He was carrying a lilo and insisted that I should share it with his daughter to sail down the river. I was terrified. The little girl kept on bouncing up and down until the lilo capsized and we both finished up in the murky water with our fathers diving in to rescue us. Vati couldn’t wait to get us home. Then he explained to me about being Jewish and how we had to be careful in what we did and said and with whom we talked. He said we were fortunate that the Brownshirt did not realise we were Jewish.
I must have been almost seven when I arrived at my Jewish school to find a large crowd outside and the school being vandalised. Desks, chairs, books, slates and
much more were being thrown out of the windows. I didn’t know what to do. “You’d better go home” a man said to me. “It’ll be a long time till you’re here again.”
My Oppenheim grandparents, Oma and Opa, lived nearer the school. Now I ran to their apartments. They were horrified with my news and wouldn’t let me go home until Oma managed to contact my parents.
“There will be more trouble,” Vati foretold. “The children in theWeisenhaus (the Jewish orphanage) will need our help”. My parents brought some of the children home with us but that night (Kristallnacht - the night of the Broken Glass), the Gestapo ransacked our flat and did much damage. They took my father away also and dropped him out of town to find his own way back. As for the Weisenhaus children they missed the Molotov cocktails that were thrown through the orphanage windows. The children had had to extinguish the fires themselves.
After this my parents decided I would be much safer out of Germany. A scheme was being set up called Kindertransport where unaccompanied children were being sent to the UK to be kept out of danger. Sadly parents could not travel with their children and helpers had to swear they would return home after their journey. In the meantime I needed the proper papers to be allowed to travel. This necessitated repeated visits to the Rathaus (The Town Hall) to see a Herr Schmidt. Two gigantic golden lions sat at the bottom of the Rathaus stairs. I was more scared of them than any Nazi. They gave me nightmares and Mutti had to drag me past them every time we visited. We had many attendances before receiving my papers.
It was 24th July, 1939 before I was ready to depart with a Kindertransport. Mutti and Vati travelled with me to Hamburg, where I was to catch the train to Holland. I was wearing a red shoulder bag and carrying my toy dog Droll. Parents were not allowed on the platform. There were so many other children. Many were crying. In all the commotion I dropped Droll and he fell beneath the train. I cried so much that a kindly helper climbed down to rescue him. Then the helper took me over to where my parents stood behind a barrier so I could kiss them goodbye.
In Holland we were taken to a large green field where some Dutch people, including Queen Wilhelmina herself, gave us a picnic before taking us to our boat. I shared a cabin with other children. We left it during the night to look for toilets and wandered miserably arround the corridors getting more lost all the time.
Hardly anyone ate breakfast that morning. A big girl told us that the British ate soapflakes for breakfast and we all believed her.
I don’t remember but I’ve been told that coming off the boat at Harwich each of us was given a bag of goodies to eat on the train travelling to London’s Liverpool Street Station.
At the station we waited to be picked up. I was one of the lucky ones because I’d been found foster parents. Not everyone had a home to go to. Some went to hostels while some others even went to a castle in Wales! A friend of mine who was sent to a farm finished up in an old railway carriage in the middle of a field.
My new foster parents Fred and Sophie Gallimore, located me at last. Fred’s brother Jack had come with them and luckily for me he spoke German. All I could say in English was “I have a handkerchief in my pocket.” Later on whenever I learned a new word I would put it into that sentence. “I have a dog in my pocket.” “I have a teacher in my pocket.”
My foster parents lived in Scotland, in Edinburgh. Soon I was on my way too. In Edinburgh I found life very different. My foster parents lived in a terrace. I was able to play with the children who lived there. I certainly was not able to do that in Germany. There was a dog too, called Rogie. I had no pets at home. And there was Fred’s car. At home Vati had a bicycle with a seat for myself behind him.
My parents wrote to me.
“We miss you so much. Remember to be good and don’t forget to write to us. This morning we gathered mushrooms and thought about you. We hope to be with you soon.”
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It was not to be. The war began on the 3rd September and Mutti and Vati were too late to travel. I understand my father was not allowed to come over because he had taken bronchitis. My parents were sent to Frankfurt in 1942. From there they were deported to Theresienstadt concentration camp in 1943. In October, 1944 they were deported to Auswitch from where they did not return. I never knew what happened to them.
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My foster parents had two children, Rosalind and Elizabeth, of their own after I came over. In 1951 the family emigrated to Brazil. I went as well until coming back to the UK to be married.
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I married Andrew Sim, a Scottish solicitor in 1952. We had five children, four girls and a boy. Sadly Andrew died in 1992. Up to date I have nine grandchildren and a great grandson. My children’s picture book telling of my journey from Germany is called “In my Pocket” and can be ordered by phone 01292 479312, or internet dorrithmsim@aol.com £6.50 plus £2.00 p & p.