The Legacy of Anne Frank

by The Legacy of Anne Frank (retail) (epub)

  Nowadays the impulsive determination shown by Norman Turgel and Freda’s friend Janine would seem strange, but in the havoc of Europe at the end of that long and devastating war, people felt the need to grasp at any opportunity for happiness.

  I first heard Gena’s story in the 1980s when her memoir I Light A Candle had just been published. At a charity lunch in the host’s beautifully furnished home, Gena politely made inconsequential conversation over white wine and canapés. Then she stood up in front of a group of fifty women and described seeing her sister Miriam shot in the back along with others who had been smuggling food. Gena had been forced to dig her own sister’s grave. Dr Mengele had conducted one of his ghastly experiments on her other sister Hela, in which he had drained her blood and replaced it with petrol. Hela died in agony the next day. Gena was the only one of her parents’ nine children to survive.

  On that day back in the 1980s Gena did not choose to tell us another story about her time in the camps – one I would not hear for a further twenty years – that she and her mother had tried to comfort the dying Anne Frank in Bergen-Belsen. ‘Anne’s bed was around the corner from me. She was delirious, terrible, burning up. I gave her cold water to wash her down. We didn’t know she would be special, but she was a lovely girl. I can still see her lying there with her face so red as she had caught typhus. And then she died.’ At the time, there were outbreaks of both typhus and dysentery in the camp and when British soldiers came to liberate Bergen-Belsen, Gena reported to them that ‘people are dying like flies’. Despite the nadir of existence she endured, as did her belief that ‘The world is beautiful. But people are nasty.’ Gena rebuilt her life through her happy fifty-year marriage to Norman resulting in thirteen great-grandchildren, whom she considers as a reward for all she suffered. Even now in her 90s, I have never seen Gena Turgel looking anything less than elegance personified, with her stylish blond hair and fashionable clothes. I accompanied a BBC television film crew to her home to interview her on the seventieth anniversary of the liberation of Bergen-Belsen, but we all had to wait while her visiting manicurist finished her nails.

  Freddie Knoller is a nonagenarian survivor who is a very popular speaker with the Anne Frank exhibition in both schools and prisons. This is partly because his story is one of exciting escapes, daring do and eventual capture after a brave flight across western Europe. Freddie was born in Vienna and as a child was a talented violinist. Following the annexation of Austria by Germany in March 1938, anti-Semitism became even more virulent, causing Freddie and his brothers to leave Vienna. Freddie went first, and travelled illegally to Antwerp, Belgium. Freddie’s mother and father, at 53 and 56, naively believed that they were too old for anything to happen to them, and so they stayed. They were deported to Theresienstadt and from there to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where they were murdered.

  In May 1940, Freddie found himself in Belgium when Germany invaded. Freddie tried to escape to France but he was arrested at the border and detained as an enemy alien in an internment camp. He was able to escape in the middle of the night, and made it to Gaillac, in the unoccupied area of France, where his aunt, uncle and cousins lived. A city boy, Freddie quickly became bored with provincial Gaillac and decided to visit Paris, a city he had always dreamed of going to. While there, living in the heart of Pigalle with its famed Moulin Rouge nightclub, he became seduced by the exciting nightlife. He obtained false papers and earned money by taking German soldiers to the nightclubs, brothels and cabarets, where he earned a percentage of anything that they spent once inside. In May 1943, while plying his nighttime trade, he was apprehended by a Gestapo officer who bragged that he could ‘easily identify Jews’. Despite this the officer did not remotely suspect that Freddie was Jewish and was using false papers. But he told him to stop working in Pigalle and that he should be working for the German Reich. Freddie knew that he could no longer risk staying in Paris and fled to Figeac in south-west France.

  Through his contacts in Figeac, Freddie joined a French Resistance group. A broken love affair led to his vengeful betrayal by his spurned girlfriend and arrest by the Vichy Police. Under torture, and without giving away any details of his Resistance colleagues, Freddie Knoller finally admitted to being a Jew. He was sent to Drancy internment camp and then on to Auschwitz-Birkenau. During the horrific journey, he looked after a middle-aged Frenchman called Robert, who turned out to be a doctor. Robert went on to be put in charge of the camp hospital barracks, and in gratitude for Freddie helping him on the journey, he found him morsels of extra food every day, which Freddie believes was the reason for his survival.

  Many British Holocaust survivors have been recognized with royal honours or honorary degrees for their contribution to our country. It is a happy irony that those who were considered ‘Untermenschen’ by their Nazi oppressors have been given this country’s highest recognition for their voluntary work as educators, as distinguished entrepreneurs and as philanthropists. Educators honoured have included Mala Tribich and her brother Ben Helfgott, who came to Britain as teenage survivors in 1945. Just seven years later Ben represented his new country as a weight-lifter in the 1952 Olympics. Mala has described the shock of her childhood home town of Piotrkow-Trybunalski becoming a ghetto, in fact it was the first in Poland to have a ghetto.

  By the 1st of November 1939, all Jews were removed from their homes and herded into a small area of the town. This became very overcrowded and the inadequate sanitary conditions caused many epidemics. We were humiliated, subjected to beatings, shootings and deprived of the most basic human rights. The main deportation came in the autumn of 1942. I only managed to avoid it because my parents paid for me to stay with a Polish family, where I lived as a Christian. When it was safe for me to return, the ghetto had shrunk to less than 10 per cent of the original size and after a short time my mother and my sister Lusia, together with 560 other people, were taken away and brutally murdered in a local forest called Rakow.

  My cousin Ann and I were among those to be deported, we were lined up in a column surrounded by soldiers with their rifles at the ready. When I spotted the officer in charge, I went up to him and told him that I had been separated from my father and brother, and asked if I could please go back to them. He looked shocked and a little surprised that I had the audacity or perhaps the courage to approach him but he smiled, called over a Jewish policeman and said ‘take her back inside the ghetto’. I tried to take Ann with me but the policeman said she did not have permission. So I was faced with the dilemma of leaving Ann or missing the chance of being reunited with my father and Ben. However, I continued to argue and eventually he let me take Ann with me.

  Towards the end of 1944 the final deportation took place. Although throughout the war conditions were constantly going downhill and at times we felt that they could not get any worse, somehow we managed to adapt. But when we arrived in Ravensbruck we felt that we would not survive. After we had queued up to have our details recorded we had to undress, everything was taken from us, our heads were shaved, we went through cold communal showers and were given the concentration camp garb, a striped skirt and jacket and a pair of clogs. When we emerged at the other end we couldn’t recognize one another. Our identities, our personalities, our very souls had been taken from us. At this point we started to lose all hope. My aunt, Frania Klein, died within a few days of arrival, my best friend Pema died soon after that, people were just giving up. But little did we suspect what was to come.

  From Ravensbruck Mala was sent to Bergen-Belsen where she encountered people who were walking skeletons. Somehow she managed to hold on to the end and liberation. She came to England in 1947 to be reunited with her brother Ben, her only surviving close relative. She learnt English, attended secretarial college and within a year was working in an office. Whilst her children were growing up, Mala studied and gained a degree in Sociology from the University of London.

  Refugees who as youngsters fled Nazi Europe in the 1930s and came to Britain have also been great contributo
rs to the country that gave them shelter. Many, such as the Labour peer Lord Alf Dubs, have publically spoken out in support of modern-day refugees fleeing oppression. Ian Karten MBE, who lost his father in Buchenwald and his sister on a death march, became successful in business and set up the Ian Karten Charitable Trust, which created 100 dedicated centres to teach computer skills to the disabled. With these inspirational lives, it is easy to forget the deeply-embedded scars that come out at night to haunt their living victims.

  Lilian Levy, the wife of the Trust’s long-time Principal Guide Herbert Levy, was liberated as a five-year-old orphan in Bergen-Belsen, and was brought over to England to live in the care of her aunt. Even though she was so little, Lilian can still remember the nauseating smell of the camp and lives with the fact that she survived because her mother had sacrificed her own precious morsels of food to save her daughter.

  Survivor Ziggy Schipper has the demeanour of a warm, friendly and jolly man whose smile denotes he is always happy to see you. However, in a candid TV interview his wife has publicly described the difficult hours of the night when her husband’s demons have come out to torment him.

  Mala Tribich has summed up her life after the war by saying: ‘Leading a normal life after living through the Holocaust is one of the biggest challenges, for the bleak shadow of that time penetrates deep. What we the survivors have been able to show is that the human capacity for resilience can prevail.’

  Over the coming two decades, all those demons, along with the bodies of their physical owners, will be stilled. It will be up to us, who have been so privileged to have heard these stories first-hand, and those we have shared the stories with, to pass them onwards to future generations.

  Chapter 24

  Anne Frank and the Girl who was Kidnapped by Sardinian Bandits

  ‘I could relate to Anne Frank. We were both teenagers in hiding, in danger and frightened and there was nowhere to escape.’ Annabel Schild

  As a young teenager in 1979, Annabel Schild was kidnapped by Sardinian bandits and held in captivity for many weeks. The Schild kidnapping case, as it unfolded, received a lot of media coverage in the UK. It had happened unusually, in the prevailing international climate of kidnappings, to a British family, so the British media were extremely interested. The Schild family went on to become great supporters of the Anne Frank Trust, for several profound reasons.

  One of the highlights of the year for the Schild family was escaping London to stay at their villa in Sardinia. At that time Sardinia was not the tourist destination it is now, and the Schild family considered themselves pioneers in its discovery. In August 1979, the family arrived on the island for their summer break. Two weeks into the holiday, Rolf, Daphne and Annabel were returning to their villa after dinner when they were pounced on by a gang of waiting Sardinian bandits. The bandits threw the Schild family back into their own car and drove it up into the mountains. Kidnappings by Sardinian bandits were rife that summer, and over a dozen tourists had already fallen victim, most quickly released. After two weeks in captivity, Rolf was freed and instructed by the kidnappers to return to London to raise the ransom, believed to be several million pounds, which the bandits were demanding for the safe return of his wife and daughter.

  Throughout the 1970s there had been several very high-profile kidnappings both for political and mercenary motives, carried out by gangs and terrorist groups such as the paramilitary Red Brigades in Italy, who murdered Italian Prime Minister Aldo Moro in 1978. Patty Hearst, the granddaughter of American newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst, was abducted in 1974 and notoriously took part in violent robberies along with her own kidnappers. Sixteen-year-old John Paul Getty III, grandson of the billionaire J. Paul Getty, had his ear sliced off by his kidnappers to demonstrate their seriousness. Canadian politician and lawyer Pierre LaPorte was murdered by his kidnappers, the Front de Liberation du Quebec, in 1970.

  Back in London, Rolf was able to raise £350,000, a huge sum in those days. After an appeal by Pope John Paul, Daphne was set free in mid-January 1980, but the 14-year-old Annabel was held on her own for a further two months. One can only imagine how her parents and older brothers Julian and David felt on every one of those remaining days, especially in the knowledge that Annabel had been born with a hearing disability. Upon her release on 21 March, Annabel told the media, ‘After my mother was freed, I felt very lonely. I had no-one to talk to and no-one to speak English to.’

  But Annabel felt she wasn’t completely on her own and many years after the event she divulged to me the reason why.

  The first autobiography I read at the age of 13 was the diary of Anne Frank. To this day it certainly must be one of the most influential books I have ever read. I remember I was very interested in this book and it gave me a sense of real understanding of what my father and his family went through during the Nazi era. The following year at the age of 14, I was kidnapped from our family home in Sardinia with my parents. After both my father and mother were freed, I was left alone with the kidnappers for two months. I was locked up in a dirty and cramped loft without electricity, cleaning facilities and sanitation, not being able to hear without my hearing aids and sitting in total darkness with nothing to do. During that time, I was struck by how much I could relate to Anne Frank. We were both in hiding, in danger and frightened and with nowhere to escape. I found comfort in thinking if Anne Frank can do it so can I, and if I do not make it then at least I was brave like Anne Frank.

  Daphne later told me: ‘It was one of those situations you could not believe you were in.’ Echoing what concentration camp survivors have told me, she went on, ‘It was the isolation that was so frightening. No-one knowing where we were. Even the local solicitors were in cahoots with the bandits.’

  I had been introduced to Rolf in 2002 by the MP for Luton, Kelvin Hopkins, as Kelvin thought Rolf could be interested in supporting the work of the Anne Frank Trust. Rolf’s company was based in Kelvin’s constituency so he knew him well. It was an auspicious meeting that resulted in many years of close association and friendship with the Schild family.

  Rolf Schild was a handsome and engaging man, a born entrepreneur with strong views on free markets and capitalism. He came from Cologne to the UK as a 14-year-old boy in a group of 100 Jewish boys who were brought out of Germany by their teacher. Rolf was reunited with his older brother Walter, who had arrived in England earlier. After the war ended Rolf and Walter learnt that their parents, grandparents and wider family had been murdered by the Nazis. Rolf took his first job in 1943 as a machine operator in a Manchester company, while at the same time studying for his degree in engineering. After the war he moved to London and found work with a small medical instruments company, where he developed a phono-cardiograph to measure and record the sound of the heart, and a transducer device to measure pressure within the heart. His next career move came when he was approached by the aero engine manufacturer Rolls-Royce who needed a device to measure engine pressures. Rolf’s view was that ‘an engine is just a pump, similar to the heart’, and that it was a matter only of adapting the medical technology. His boss thought the potential in the aviation industry too limited, and was not interested in diversifying, but Rolf had what he called ‘fingerspitzengefuhl’ (a feeling in his fingertips) about the new product.

  He set up his own company with a business partner and they began assembling components in Rolf’s Hampstead kitchen for manufacturers such as De Havilland. After winning a government contract to provide transducers for ballistic missiles, they took over a rented factory and the business took off. The company, SE Laboratories, went on to contribute to the development of the first heart and lung machine at Hammersmith Hospital, helping to advance open heart surgery. Rolf then went on to invest in Hymatic Engineering, a military equipment manufacturer, which became Huntleigh Technology in 1975. In 1954 he had met Daphne Scholtes, who was working at the BBC in Langham Place as an assistant to the Presentations Editor. They married and had three children, Julian, David and
Annabel.

  After the arrest of the Sardinian bandits who kidnapped the Schild family, it was reported that this uneducated group of men had actually mistaken the name Rolf Schild for Rothschild. That was one of the theories, another was that it was a case of mistaken identity, and that the gang had confused the Schild family with that of a famous football manager who lived in the next-door villa.

  After these terrible and traumatic events, the family carried on their lives as best they could. On returning to school Annabel’s head teacher had apparently told the pupils not to mention anything to Annabel, to treat her as though nothing had happened. It is difficult to know whether this was the wisest policy, although Annabel is a remarkably successful, down-to-earth and caring woman.

  Rolf Schild was appointed OBE in 1997, and was also awarded the German Order of Merit for his contribution to Anglo-German relations. He also remained a practising engineer, both in the research department of Huntleigh Technology and as a hobby, and travelled widely in search of new ideas. In the final months of his life, he designed the ‘air walker’, an exercise device to help airline passengers avoid deep-vein thrombosis. He also became known for his charitable interests, and was the proud host of the very first Anne Frank Trust lunch in January 2003. Despite his great support of the Conservative Party, Rolf agreed to the speaker being the Labour government’s Chief Secretary to the Treasury, Paul Boateng, and at the lunch they enjoyed a very lively conversation. Less than three months after hosting the lunch, Rolf died suddenly. Ironically, this man who had cheated murder by the Nazis and given so much to the medical industry, helping the lives of so many, died due to a medical misdiagnosis.

  In August, when planning our second annual fundraising lunch, I called Daphne and suggested she may wish to host the lunch in honour and memory of Rolf. She readily agreed, and has generously hosted the lunch for the following fifteen years. Her children Julian, David and Annabel have all been wonderful supporters too. I once asked Daphne what was so appealing to her about the event. As well as the diversity of the guests that regularly attend, Daphne told me why Anne Frank had been so important to her and Annabel. During their lonely days of captivity together in the cold and isolated cave in Sardinia, they had often spoken about Anne Frank and her days hiding in the secret annexe. Anne had become part of their own life in captivity, and remained to this day very special to them.