Page. Sixteen

THE JEWISH

NEWS

Friday, July 30, 1943

Doctor L. D., who Served as an Escort to Refugees,
Tells the Story of A Children's Transport

Where's the Statue of Liberty?'

The Jewish News is pleased to publish this feature article with the special
permission of the J. D. C. Digest, published by the American Jewish Joint Distribu-
tion Committee.

T

ROUBLE began the very
first morning on board. Eli came into break-
fast with, a dour mien which seemed to accen-
tuate the freckles on his weather-beaten face.
While the other children ate with punctuations
of pleasure, he took his food with disconcerting
detachment.
It was Joseph who directed our attention
to Eli's behavior. Joseph, for all his twelve
years, possessed the appetite of a grown man.
Not to appreciate good food was sacrilege to
him. "Don't you feel well, Eli?" he asked.
"I feel all right," Eli mumbled.
"You ate much better at the home." Joseph
was referring to the seaside resort outside Lis-
bon where the 21 boys had stayed for a week
after their arrival from Spain. The 14 girls who
made up the rest of this third transport since
the start of the Children's Project in January,
1943, were quartered in another suburb.
"Sure, I did. There are no German subma-
rines on the ground."
Silence blanketed the dining room. Only
15-month-old Jeanette, her feet merrily kick-
ing against the high chair, continued breakfast
with unconcern. I half rose in my seat to try
to dispel the sudden gloom. Then Kurt, one of
our older boys, shouted belligerently, "The
R.A.F. can take care of any German subma-
rines."
A- slight titter ran around the tables. Every-
one knew what an aviation bug Kurt was. The
spell was broken. Breakfast continued, though
here and there little heads put themselves to-
gether to whisper and shake.
* * *
I waited until the meal ended. Then, with
a casual air, I said, "Eli, do you know what kind
of a boat this is?"
He looked at me blankly. "Why it's a 'Joint'
boat."
"I don't mean that," I persisted. 'What na-
tionality is it? Under what flag is it sailing?"
, "Oh," he said, "it's a Portuguese boat."
"Of course„ it is. Now, is Portugal at war
with Germany ?"
Eli saw what I was leading to. So did the
other children. But he was not to be convinced
so easily. "I know what you mean," he rose,
"but . . ."
"You needn't worry," I interrupted gently
but firmly. "The Nazis have too much trouble
on their hands to 'bother with neutral
boats."
An hour later we took the smaller
children on to the well deck to play.
My wife and Mr. G. were consuling
with the purser. The other two es-
-....corts and I leaned against the rail.
"What do you make of Eli, doctor?
Has he shaken their morale?"
• "I think they'll be all right," I
said. "Even Eli doesn't really believe
what he said.
"You see," I went on, "Eli is only
15. He and his older brother escaped
from Paris just before the Nazis de-
ported their parents to Poland. That
was last summer. Somehow, they got
to the free zone. Then when they
decided to try to get to Spain, the brother lost
his nerve. Eli crossed the Pyrenees all by him-
self. The 'Joint' took care of him when he
reached Barcelona and included him in this
transport.
"Eli is a boy with courage. He had no money,
no friends, yet he . ."
'1' "Yet he's suddenly afraid of U-boats. I think
I understand your • point, doctor. He can't be-
lieve his good fortune, that he's actually going
to America. To tell the truth, I hardly believe
it myself."
We laughed. "Yes," I said, "Eli is looking for
reasons why his good luck should stop • . ."
* * *
A shout from the top deck floated to us on
the wind. We followed three or four children
running to it In a circle of children and other
passengers near the rail, a young woman, about
26, her hair flying free from beneath a kerchief,
was embracing Kurt. Tears had made jagged
streaks through her face powder. She was ask-
ing Kurt, "What happened after Bordeaux?
Were mama and papa in

- -"""11.

Joseph wormed his way to my
side and told me, beaming, that
the girl was Kurt's sister and
that they had been lost to each
other for three years.
"We were separated at Bor-
deaux." She held Kurt tight as
she talked. "You know, when the
Nazis dive-bombed the railroad
station, when so many thousands
of us were waiting for a train.
And all this time I thought Kurt
was dead because I had found a
tatter, with blood on it, from a
brown jacket just like his."
On the fringe of the group,
several crew members were un-
ashamedly wiping their eyes.
Women were using their hand-
kerchiefs. Eli, apparently forget-
ting about U-boats, was staring at
Kurt in open admiration and
envy.
* * *
The ship's captain came up.
He was a stocky, jovial man- who
looked upon all refugees as his
special concern. I told him about
the reunion.
"Wonderful!" he cried. "We
shall have a party tonight. It is
good luck for a ship when the peo-
ple are happy. It will be a calm
voyage.
When things quieted, I took the opportunity
to speak to him about deck chairs for the chil-
dren, and also about their smallpox vaccina-
tions.
"Everything is arranged," he replied. "You
forget that it has been my privilege to captain
other transports. I am also a good friend of
your Dr.. Jose Schwartz (Dr. Joseph J.
Schwartz, the J.D:C.'s European chief). You
will get your chairs this afternoon, and tomor 7
row my doctor will • do the vaccinations. And
please do not insist • on paying. There is no
charge. This is our little contribution to this
great cause."
We put the children to bed early that night.
Later, the escorts and I made the rounds. Some
of the older. boys 'and girls, in charge of groups
of younger children, -were still up, arranging
clothes. bOne of them, Reuben, told me that
Ernst, of the smaller lads, occasionally moaned
his deported parents'
names in his sleep.
"And he played so
well today," Reuben
. said sadly.
This seeming con-
tradiction was with
us, though progres-
sively less, through-
out the voyage.
Ernst, and even older
children, would for-
get their troubles by
day, but take them
to bed at night. In
fact, they played so
heartily that when
we landed, several
needed shoe replace-.
ments because they had worn through the soles
of the new ones they had received in Lisbon.

* *

In one of the other cabins, two youngsters,
a brother and sister aged 4 and 5, were missing.
The girl in charge was frantic. I calmed her.
"Don't worry," I said, "I'll find them."
And find them I did—in my own cabin.
They were sitting up in my wife's bed, munch-
ing cookies which the stewards gave all the
children.
"They've been following me about all day,",.
my wife explained.. "In the excitement with
Kurt I forgot to tell you. They want to be with
us if the boat is `s-u-n-k." She spelled the word
out. "I can't budge them." .
"That's Eli's doing," I said.
"Let them stay. here tonight. They'll get
over it,"
* * *
They stayed- with us all through the voyage.
We made port just after dawn 13 days out
of Lisbon. Excitement, even among the adults,
was .intense. ,Hours later, when we had passed

through the quarantine formalities and were
tying up at the pier, it still had not subsided.
We were regrouping the children for the tenth
time when Eli's strident voice was heard:
"We're not in America! No!"
"Eli! What's the matter with you?" I asked
sternly.
"Then Where is the Statue of Liberty?" he
demanded.
I laughed until the tears hung on my eyelids.
The children, suddenly made quiet by Eli's
outburst, looked bewildered. "This is Phila-
delphia," I explained. "We didn't land in New
York."
My wife enfolded Eli as he burst into un-
controllable crying.
The first one off the boat was Joseph. He
ran down the gangplank, hiS red forelock fly-
ing. At the bottom, a guard caught him. "Take
it easy, Frenchy," he said, straightening Jo-
seph's beret.
We were in America.

.

'

A Difference

This simple tale was told by an escort
nurse, now in the United States, who be-
fore the war helped to transport Jewish
children from Vienna to London. "Dur-
ing the German aerial blitz of 1940,"
she relates, one of my youthful charges,
who in Vienna had lived in deathly fear
of the Nazis, was injured by an incen-
diary. When I saw hini several days
later his face was completely bandaged.

" Teter,' I said, aren't you sorry now
You left Vienna?"0h, no,' he said. 'This
is nothing.' His face underneath those
bandages must have been so solemn. 'I
don't mind this. This was just an honest
bombing.' For a moment, I did not
understand him, Then it came to me.

The constant fear in which be had
lived in Vienna had been far more pain-
ful than this 'honest' bombing which he
was sharing with so many other chil-
dren."

