International House Berkeley

94 Paul Salz 1950 - 1952 W hat was my journey from Czechoslovakia into the US? My parents applied and sent me to England when I was fifteen-and-a-quarter on what is known as the Children's Transport, organized by an English stockbroker in Prague, Mr. Winton. He is still alive, by the way; he is one-hundred-and-one years old. The trains started going in 1938; I was put on the train at the end of June 1939 and arrived in England on July 1 of 1939. He single-handedly, practically single-handedly, managed to save the lives of many Jewish children. He cajoled the British to allow entrance to these non-visa people and to cut down the payment required — it was quite steep at the time. So he talked to the British authorities back and forth, and, during 1938 and 1939, he saved six hundred and sixty-nine children from Prague – Jewish children. My train was not the last one, but one but last; there was one train after my train. And then the war broke out between Poland and Germany in September, 1939. What I remember of that trip was that, well, I took it more or less like luck; I didn't realize that I was leaving my parents. It must have been terrible for them – sending that little boy into the unknown. It was an unknown, really! The train ride was rather interesting. I was very diligently trying to learn English from a boy's magazine. There were paragraphs in it in English – in the Learn English section. Every week it came out with a little paragraph. I had one of those issues, and I was learning English. I couldn't figure out how to pronounce it. I always remember the most funny word that I kept laughing about: "nefspapeer" – "newspaper." Now you see, if I would say that to a Czech, he would start laughing immediately. But Americans – they don't get it! But, you know, I was used to reading each syllable exactly as it was written, no changes. Still, I was trying to learn English! Of course, I didn't.... Each of us had ten marks in our pockets, which were promptly taken by the German customs people. And then, when we got into Holland, Dutch ladies swarmed over the train with bread and butter, cookies, this and that drink, soft drinks and juices; they just overwhelmed the train because they knew that these children were escaping. But that was Holland; these were the Dutch people. And then we got into England, and that was it. Because I was too old to find a family, I was put into a refugee camp in Ipswich. I was away from my parents for nine-and-a-half years. In England, I was working. The very first job I had was picking strawberries in some fields just outside the refugee camp. That did not last very long. Then I was transferred to the Midlands, to Northampton, and there I began to work in an iron foundry. I made the gas-tight covers for the Maginot Line. It was rather hard work for a fifteen-and-a-half year old, or close to sixteen now, but not quite sixteen. And then I was given a job in a leather tannery. It was also hard work. I still remember the address: 101 Milton Street. It was one of

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