AFTER ALL, WE WERE YOUNG AND ENJOYED BEING ALIVE Anni Wolff

Gert Hoehne,: "100 YEARS UNDER ONE HAT."

AFTER ALL, WE WERE YOUNG AND ENJOYED BEING ALIVE

Everyone lives his own life and goes through his own experiences. I am sure that no one can profit from another person's life, nor profit from advice from another. Parents can never make important decisions instead of their children, nor grand-parents for their grand-children. But, if my modest report gives the reader some pleasure, it will have fulfilled the aim of my writing.

What rendered most of my life beautiful was a sense of humor. I am very grateful for it, since it has supported me many times during my life. It has provided me with hope and strength, even in some very difficult situations. My father was richly blessed with this very special kind of humor. I would say that he had a Berlin-colored sense of humor, spiritual and free of wickedness, approaching people kindly. I sincerely hope that this sense of humor was with him to the very end!

My mother was a very sensitive, kind and charming lady. To the end of my days, it will hurt me that I was unable to save my parents by making it possible for them follow us here, out of the hell. I would have been able to spare them the unbelievable hardships’ suffering and humiliation they had to endure. My father, fourteen years mother's senior, died of sorrow, malnutrition and exhaustion in my mother's arms. He had suffered from an heart-ailment for years before being interned. My mother was still in Theresin in 1944 and apparently died. (Perhaps she committed suicide to avoid deportation?) Hitler, knowing he would lose the war, sent most of the surviving Jews to their death in the gas-chambers as his final "revenge". We got this information at the Documentation Center of Kibbutz Giv'at Chayim only recently. This Center is kept by a member of the Kibbutz, a woman who was an inmate of this ghetto as a child. Keeping these records is her life's purpose and a very valuable one.

Everything we had known before, was reported to us by our old Christian children's nurse, who was living in Berlin until the 6o's. She had come to see us in Israel sometimes before. Elli, as she was called, endangered her own life by standing by my parents during the hardest period, when they were still in Berlin,. We are very grateful to her and shall never forget her helpfulness and courage.

Fortunately my only sister immigrated to Palestine with her husband, Heinz, and their only daughter Ruth in 1938. They lived near us in Ramat-Gan until 1990. To our deep sorrow, my brother-in-law died in 1992 at the nursing department of the Retirement Home, where my sister still lives. I am in constant touch with her by phone and used to see her once a week. We are very close, being the last survivors of our generation in the immediate family.

CHILDHOOD IN BERLIN-WEDDING

Our father, Richard Gattel, hailed from an ancient Jewish Berlin-born family. Our grandmother, Bertha Gattel nee Sternberg, was born in Berlin-Spandau, in 1845. Her husband, Borchard, together with his brothers, founded a workshop for men's caps around 1865. Later on, they expanded production considerably. During 1890 and 1891 the Gattel Brothers built a large factory at Wedding, in the north of Berlin, where they began to produce men's hats. They also built a beautiful family house on the same plot. At the height of its prosperity, about 175 people were employed in the business, including workmen and office staff. The plot contained 3 court-yards. The family home was built in patrician style.

My sister Lotte and myself spent most of our wonderful childhood there. Behind the factory building a large gate opened onto a very well cared fir garden, a rarity in the heavy industrialized north of Berlin.

Big bundles of virgin wool, which were stored under a roof in one of the court-yards to protect the wool from rain, served us children as an ideal playing ground and hiding place. Fruits and flowers, as well as vegetables were grown in our garden. We loved climbing the shady trees. Sometimes my sister and I ran off, climbing to the top of a tree, taking a pillow and a book with us. There was even a swing as well as some parallel and horizontal bars and a bowling ground for the men of the family to relax in during their few hours of leisure. A peasant style veranda allowed us the pleasant choice of breakfasting there in summer.

We had no close friendships with the neighborhood children. But sometimes we played together. We had befriended our caretaker's children. His daughter Gretchen, somewhat younger than Lotti, was greatly admired by us.

When she was confirmed at the age of fourteen, we imitated her, dressed up complete with black taffeta hair-bows and clasped a bunch of flowers in our hands.

THE PARENTS

As was customary at the time, my father and his younger brother Max, who became his associate after their father's death, had to learn hat manufacture right from the beginning of the process as well as the trade. The hats were made of virgin wool, taken right off the sheep's back, then cleaned, dyed and pressed into special metallic forms. As a young man, my father was sent to America for one year, to study modern methods of dyeing. Afterwards he used to work within the factory proper and in the office, while my uncle served as a sales representative, traveling all over the world. He was assisted by local agents, who established contacts for him with customers in order to sell our products

Father's brother Max too was highly intelligent and full of humor. He could entertain a whole group for hours on end. He and his wife, Anneliese, were also murdered by the Nazis.

Our foreign representatives used to visit our factory from time to time. On such occasions, our parents used to invite them into our home and treat them to a festive meal. Even at very short notice, my mother would receive them with her usual charm and a display of her cooking skills.

All members of my family were proud but secular Jews. So we were not given a special Jewish education. My parents were not observant Jews. Nevertheless, they considered themselves part of the Jewish community. Special events were the Jewish High Holidays, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Then my mother and her father, Max Pinthus, our dearly beloved grandfather, took us to the "New Synagogue" at Oranienburger Street, (today the Centrum Judaicum), where they had permanent seats. The Seder-Evening was solemnly celebrated with the Schocken-Family in Bremerhaven where we loved to spend the Pesach holidays. They were observant and Lotte and I liked the festive atmosphere at their home. Aunt Jeannette, called Nettchen, was mother's beloved sister. She was like a second mother to us. To our very deep sorrow, she was sent to the gas-chambers, together with her eldest daughter, Edith, who was ill at the time. Mother's younger brother, Erich Pinthus, and his wife and little son, then about five years old, also fell victims to the Nazi death-machine.

The Schockens owned two department stores and were quite wealthy. They assisted my parents financially unto the end, a fact we shall never forget.

Both our parents were deeply rooted within German culture. My father especially was involved in Berlin's cultural life. He loved his hometown and knew it very well. He took us children into the Old City, telling us about its history, or went with us to one of the many museums, mostly on Sundays, when he did not work. Later, when we had grown up, we accompanied our parents to concerts of classical music and to the theater. We became very enthusiastic about them. As a matter of fact, Berlin had become the undisputed cultural Center of Germany in the 1920's.

Our father loved all kinds of sport. In his early years, he must have overdone it. He contracted a heart disease. Therefore, he was forbidden to take part in active sports for a long time. However, at the age of sixty, his health had improved, and to his delight, he was permitted to swim and row again. When I was 12, I became a member of the rowing club in our school. On weekends, my father took me in our boat to the outskirts of Berlin with their romantically beautiful lakes and rivers. We had a wonderful time together, and I got to know and to love these colorful land- and seascapes. We owned a rowboat, which was called: "d. m. d. a." In German it means: "You ought to clean it!" (Das machst Du sauber!). This was just another expression of my father's sense of humor. These trips were some of the most memorable events in my life.

For many years, Father was a senior member of a rowing club and sometimes even I would be allowed to steer one of the boats in a regatta, which made me very proud, indeed. My mother and sister were less attracted to these activities and preferred to stay home, reading an interesting book.

During World War I, at the age of 47, ignoring his heart condition. my patriotic father volunteered for service in the German Army, He served at a military airfield near Berlin, called Adlershof. Though he was allowed to spend the night at home, he had to get up at 4 o'clock in the morning, in order to arrive at his base on time for the morning review. Once he fainted and had to be taken to a Military Hospital in Berlin. By chance, it was at the Jewish Hospital, not far from our home. I was only four years old and attended a private Jewish kindergarten. One of my playmates was the son of this Hospital's pharmacist. So, hen we met at his parent's flat I was allowed to visit my father Although I was so young, I clearly remember who was in the bed next to my father's.,

Some people called our father: "The living encyclopedia", because of his amazing knowledge in many different fields. I could never understand, how and when he had been able to gather such a wealth of knowledge since he attended school for only ten years. At the age of 16, he began his apprenticeship to the trade. Then he had not much time left to study. Still I can not recall that he ever failed to give us a satisfactory answer to our questions.

Father was also a member of the "Free Writer's Association" together with intellectuals like Gerhart Hauptmann, Wilhelm Boelsche and Bruno Wille. He even studied Turkish, which at the time of World War I was still written in Arabic letters. His teachers were Eli Hey Holland and Savny Midad.

YOUTH AND SCHOOLDAYS.

As children we loved to read, preferably in bed. Some workers in our factory made us planks with hooks to hang on the glass doors of our bedroom, so that our parents could not tell from the living-room, whether the light was still on in our room. When we heard them coming we put out the light, our books quickly flew under the covers and we snored heavily. Our parents considered reading in bed very unhealthy.

In school, we kept books under the desk for when we were bored with the lessons. When the teacher called on us, one of our neighbors helpfully whispered the answer. Lotte and I attended the Schiller-Lyceum, which was situated opposite the Lower Court in the Wedding-District, at the corner of Pank- and Boettcher-Street.

Neither my sister Lotte, nor myself were very good at Mathematics. We expected to fail the Matric exams and so dropped out of school after ten years. My sister studied artistic photography at a special school, the Lettehaus. I went to a private language seminary to study French and German. After four semesters, in April 1931, I passed an official exam, which entitled me to teach these languages at private schools or to individuals. Afterwards, I taught for some time. At the beginning of 1932 I began to work at the "Deutsche Buchgemeinschaft" as an editorial secretary. It was there that I met, Guenter (called Peter), later my husband, who was a junior editor at the professional newspapers, which were published under the same ownership.

My sister married in 1930 and followed her husband, Heinz Gabbe, to Ilmenau in Thueringen, which seemed to me "far away". While my mother was busy preparing the wedding, I quietly got in touch with a French family in Fontainebleau, near Paris, through the intervention of a friend. This was a nice and hospitable family, (a Calvinist pastor and his wife), who volunteered, to host at their home young foreign students, during summer vacations, to enable them, to practice French, and to get used to the day-to-day-language.- When I presented the fait accompli to my parents, they had to accept willy-nilly, and let their "child" travel to the vicinity of the "capital of wickedness," - Paris. I had the time of my life, spending a wonderful month that summer staying with these nice people, and getting to know some very interesting students from different countries. Naturally, the common language had to be French. There was an art-school and conservatory of music in the beautiful Royal Palace, built by Francois the First in the 16th century. This school was sponsored and financed by wealthy Americans. Gifted young men and women could study at it. Fortunately, we had the opportunity to hear outstanding concerts with the most famous conductors and artists, including Ravel. Sometimes two of us, went into the auditorium on the same ticket. One got in for the first, the other for the second part of the concert. Among the students staying with the Pastor's family was a young Dutch man, Toon, two meters tall. He was studying Chinese and Japanese at a Dutch University and at the early age of twenty-one could translate the texts into many European languages, most of which he spoke fluently.

After approximately 58 years, I found his name in an encyclopedia about the culture of the Far East. Toon was one of the collaborators. I could not resist! Curious to know his present whereabouts, I wrote to Leiden University. They informed me that Toon, professor emeritus of Sinology, was still alive, living in Switzerland, above Lake Geneva, with his second wife. We got in touch, writing and telling each other about our lives. He had been living in China, and was a Japanese prisoner of war for four long years, undergoing a lot of hardships. Afterwards he divorced his first wife and married again. Now he was retired from teaching at Leiden University and continued to write about Chinese Law. Unfortunately, he died in 1993. But in 1994, his widow invited me to her home in Romont, where I spent a very agreeable week, talking with her about her husband. We are now in touch corresponding from time to time. She is about my age.

I did not want my readers to miss this curious story.

GETTING TO ZIONISM.

From April 1933 on, we were boycotted by everybody we had been working with at the "Deutsche Buchgemeinschaft". This was a cruel experience. Nobody bothered to talk to us nor supplied us with work anymore. From one day to the other we became completely ignored. Our salary was paid until May 31. We became so nervous we could hardly stand it and asked to be released before this date. But, luckily, we thought it important to get a written document explaining why we were dismissed through no fault of our own. In black on white it reads: "Dismissed, owing to the "reorganization" of the enterprise" - (which meant: "Aryanization"). We were also down-graded, Guenther to "assistant editor" and myself to "shorthand-typist".

My brother-in-law, Heinz Gabbe, who was a longtime Zionist and very active in the movement, succeeded in procuring work for me as a secretary at the Palestine Zionist Office in Berlin. Previously we had had lively discussions about Zionism, because at first I was opposed to it. But he managed to persuade me and later I became an ardent and active Zionist. I was the only secretary in the office, working for eleven councilors and advising potential emigrants. It was not at all easy given the nerve-wracking situation. Every Jew wanted to get out of Germany as soon as possible, most of them to go to Palestine. To immigrate into the country, one needed a certificate from the British Authorities. But you could only get it if you were in the possession of 1000.-Pounds Sterling or if you were an expert in some trade needed in Palestine. As the Jews had been deprived of all their belongings, including money and other valuables, or had lost their jobs, just because they were Jews, most of them, including myself and my future husband, were not in a position to accumulate this large sum of money. So we had to "change professions".

At the time, some emissaries from Palestine were sent to Germany, in order to prepare potential immigrants for their future life in their new homeland. We began to listen to conferences and studied Jewish history and Hebrew. These emissaries, in Hebrew called "Schlichim", lived in more than modest conditions in Berlin. They had only one decent suit for the three of them. So, if they were invited to an official event, only one could attend. Events were then organized by the "General Zionists" or by the Pioneers, "Hechalutz" in Hebrew. At every meeting, a member of the National-Socialist Party had to be present. There used to be screenings of films about life in Palestine, as well as lessons and discussions.

At the time the Shlichim to Berlin were David Umansky, director and school teacher at Kibbutz Ginegar, Levi Shkolnik, later called Eshkol who went on to become Finance as well as Prime Minister of Israel, and Moshe Katznelson, nephew of Berl, who was then chief editor of "Davar", paper of the Labor Party. Levi Eshkol and Moshe Katznelson are no longer alive. Of David's fate I have no knowledge whatsoever. These emissaries lived in small, dark furnished rooms, equipped just with the most essential items. They told us about the hard conditions of our future life, but also made us aware of its unbelievable charm. They taught us the beautiful songs, which appealed to us enormously, and made us love the land of our forefathers. Through their personal example they infected us with their optimism. Even knowing about the hardships ahead of us we were very eager to get on the way as early as possible.

Frequently, I used to work at the Hechalutz office voluntarily knowing there was no money to pay me.

Most German Jews had been critical of Zionism before boycott. They honestly believed that Germany would be still ruled by law. Its citizens would not tolerate the Hitler-regime for an extended period. They were sure that common sense would eventually return to the German people, and law and order would prevail again. Nevertheless after the boycott many of them changed their minds. They began to return to Jewish values. The young Rabbi, Joachim Print in Berlin inspired them. Later on it was the liberal and charismatic Rabbi, Dr. Leo Baeck, who strengthened and helped the Jews who were left behind to face their hardships and stand upright in spite of it all.

Very many German Jews, particularly those from Berlin, were strongly rooted in German culture, as were my own parents. They just could not change their attitude. Most of them were detained by profession or property and believed they could not leave all this behind. Also the possibility of immigrating to another country became daily more problematic. Nearly every one of these countries was closing its gates, especially against Jewish immigrants. The systematic looting of Jewish property in Germany continued constantly. Jews without financial means had practically no chance whatsoever to immigrate to another country.

I became completely overworked at the Zionist office. The Jews were getting nervous and even panic-stricken. Besides, we had to work about 12 to 15 hours a day., At the end of the day, I even used to take work home with me. My nerves had become so tense, they threatened to give way. So I decided to change my surroundings.

INTERMEZZO IN PARIS.

In the fall of 1933, I left Berlin for Paris. Money for a pleasure trip was out of the question. Therefore, I began to work as governess to a three year old boy in a French-Jewish family. The elderly parents introduced me to everyone as a "professional language-teacher". But I was not allowed to use the "master's" bathroom only to clean it. I used to share the meals in the kitchen with the simple but very friendly Breton cook. I had to take my bath on the sixth floor, which could not be heated. That winter, 1933-34, was one of the coldest in Europe. The thermometer showed 20 degrees C below zero! Once a month I got leave in the evening, but I had to return at ten o'clock. So, I was not able to attend plays or concerts, because of the great distances in Paris. Twice a month I was allowed to go out in the afternoon, but had to dress the child after his nap first. By then, it was always three o'clock, and between six and seven I had to be home. In short, life was not easy. I had saved the greater part of my not too generous salary to invite my parentsto visit Paris, which they did not know, for one week. But then a small difficulty arose. To open a bank account was permitted only at the age of twenty-one, I had to get the written consent of my parents. But the manager understood my problem and because my twenty-first birthday was only a few months away, I was allowed to open one.

How deep was my disappointment when I got a message from Berlin telling me that the Paris trip had to be canceled. My father, together with his brother, had been forced out of his seventy-year old factory, and deprived of livelihood. Lately he had been associated with a Christian partner in a provincial city called Guben. This partner had taken advantage of the new laws to throw my Jewish father and his brother out, paying them a tiny sum of money, hardly enough to live on for more than two or three months.

My parents hinted in the letter that they wished me to come home. So after a short intermezzo as secretary and translator for a Czech Jewish banker who had no knowledge of French I returned home. Then I began to teach and did some odd jobs to assist my parents. But I was quite certain there would be no future for us in Germany and on my friend Guenther’s initiative I entered the "Hechaluz" Movement". Guenther was already a member. I discussed the activities of this organization earlier. Studying Hebrew was a difficult task for us.

WERKDORP NIEUWESLUIS.

In November 1934 we left Berlin for the Netherlands to study and practice agriculture at the Werkdorp. We were six young Zionists, my friend Guenter among them. For young Jews, who came from all classes and from different professions, this was the only way to immigrate to Palestine. The country was then badly in need of farmers and gardeners, as well as artisans and technical experts. Even after changing profession, it was difficult to get a permit for immigration. Each permit or certificate could be used for a single person or for a couple Therefore, some young people got married just to make maximum use of a single certificate. Some of these couples divorced after arriving in Palestine, others stayed together for good.

At the beginning of the Hachsharah or preparation for Palestine, there were 120 young men and 20 women. The camp was established first and foremost for political refugees whose lives were threatened in Germany. They had to get out immediately after Hitler came to power. The Amsterdam Jewish Community sponsored this camp and insisted on the Jewish and religious character of its life. The kitchen had to be kept strictly kosher and the atmosphere was very puritan. Living quarters for women and men were completely separated. Every unit accommodated six persons and consisted of a bedroom and a living room. The units were sparsely furnished only with beds, small built-in cupboards and a stove, which was badly needed because of the very severe climatic conditions in this part of Holland. In those days, no shrubs or trees grew at the site. So heavy storms as well as constant rain reached the place from every direction. We were instructed by experienced Dutch teachers in every branch of agriculture and handicrafts. But the foremost aim was to become accustomed to hard physical labor under difficult conditions. This proved very useful for our future life in the new country. We, the girls, had to work mostly in the kitchen, dining room or laundry, and could hardly ever look into other branches. Luckily when Moshe Katznelson arrived from Palestine, this situation was changed. He insisted that the boys participate in household work and the girls try their hands at other branches. I, for one, sometimes volunteered for work in the cow shed. We had to get up at three o'clock, but could take advantage of the cows’ bodies to warm up while milking them. At first, it was very hard. Because of our inexperience the cow often stepped into the full bucket of milk spilling it all over the place. But slowly we got used to this task, and even became fond of it.

When we were hungry, which was often, the young gardeners pointed out to us where to find the juiciest melons and cucumbers. The girls reciprocated, putting fresh eggs and sugar into the boy's cupboards. We had "lifted" these while working with the chickens.

There was a so-called "sexual zone" which was mocked at Purim-festivals. If I remember well boy's and girl's were forbidden to get together within about 50 km from the village. All of us were in our early twenties and found a solution. We exchanged addresses of low-priced Amsterdam Hotels where young couples could meet on weekends. Amsterdam was about 75 km from the Werkdorp. So the problem could be solved. After all we were young and enjoyed being alive.

Sometimes political discussions came up between leftists and members of the Zionist Movement, as is common among young people. But we hardly had time or inclination, tired as we were after a hard day's work, to let the situation get out of hand..

We, ( the six from Berlin), were the nucleus of the first Zionist group at this camp. By the time we left, it numbered about 400 young men and women, two thirds of them applying for Palestine certificates.

THE 19th WORLD ZIONIST CONGRESS in 1935.

I got the chance to be delegated to this congress, together with a small number of other members of the Dutch Hechalutz. We left Nieuwesluis for Lucerne, Switzerland, in August 1935. I worked during the Congress with the General Secretary of the World Jewish Congress, Dr. Julius Becker, predecessor of Dr. Nachum Goldmann. My job was to attend the Plenary sessions as well as the internal discussions, take notes and report to the different wire agencies like "Reuter's", "Palcor", "Itim" etc., by phone in English, German and French. This was very interesting but rather demanding work. We used to begin every morning at about ten o'clock, and never finished work before three or four the next morning. I did not sleep very much but had a rather good salary. I could allow myself the luxury of spending the short nights at a private home, was not compelled to share the room with many others, and could enjoy some rest. My comrades could make use of part of my good earnings, to get some decent food.

I met many famous and interesting personalities. Moshe Katznelson, who was with us, introduced me to his uncle, Berl Katznelson, editor of "Davar." Among others, I met David Ben-Gurion, Menachim Ussishkin etc. The first was General Secretary of the Labor Party at the time. The second was founder and chairman of Keren Kayemet, the National Fund for land acquisition. I was delighted, to hear people speaking Hebrew in the streets and to see the wonderful illumination in a Swiss city, in honor of the Jewish event, being right in the middle of the Nazi sphere of influence. Another very enjoyable occurrence was the surprise meeting with my sister Lotte. I met her in Lucerne by chance, after we had not seen each other for more than a year. No need to mention how enthusiastically we hugged each other! Lotte was spending a vacation at Engelberg with a friend. I went to visit her there for some hours on the only work-free day. I remember that it was raining heavily.

When Dr. Becker asked me to accompany him to Geneva as his secretary, I declined with heavy heart because I had solemnly promised to return to Hachasharah and to my work at the hen-house, after the end of the Congress.

Later, back in Holland I came down with a severe inflammation of the joints, following a bad spell of neglected strep throat and had to undergo extended and rather painful treatment at the "Amsterdam Israelitishe Ziekenhuis." Even after 6 weeks the physicians would not allow me to return to the wet and hard climate of the Werkdorp. I was told I would never again be able to do physical work! What would the reaction of the physicians have been had they learned how hard I had to work later on? I stayed in Amsterdam looking after the three children of very nice family and helping with the housework until I received the so longed for entrance certificate to Palestine.

ONCE MORE IN BERLIN.

At the end of 1935 I went home to Berlin to take leave of my parents and other members of my family.

My father, who was extremely law-abiding, wanted me to report to the Police. My passport was promptly confiscated and I underwent an hour long inquisition. Thus I was prevented from leaving Germany together with my friends. My father who was waiting for me outside became nervous and was very sorry that he had insisted on my reporting to the Police. In addition to his anxiety he could not understand the "injustice" committed by the authorities. My family became very down-hearted. We could only talk in a whisper even within our own four walls and everyone wished to see me leave Berlin eventually, healthy and without any obstacles. Every single day I had to report to the police-station in person and undergo another round of questions all the time. Notably, this occurred in early 1936! Also, unfortunately I came down with appendicitis and had to undergo surgery. Just after I got up again, I once more reported to the Police and, to my immense relief, finally got my passport back. I did not want to wait until the incisions were healed, but left the same evening, taking the train to Trieste, to board the "Galilee" heading for Palestine, unfortunately without my comrades, who were there already. My departure was very, very painful for all of us. Even though I had not spent much time at home recently, the strong bond with my family had never loosened. The separation was a bitter experience. My only hope was to see my parents again in Palestine. To my deep sorrow, this was not to be.

FINALLY IN THE "PROMISED LAND".

It was in no way easy to travel alone towards the unknown future. I boarded ship in Trieste, equipped with one suitcase and carrying my beloved typewriter, which, even now, after sixty-one years, is still with me. The Mediterranean crossing in March was dreadful. The sea was stormy, and most of the young passengers became seasick and homesick. They were girls and boys, aged between 14 to 17, heading for the Kibbutz Ein Charod. Youth-Aliyah was sending them there.

When we arrived at Haifa Port, on the evening of 16th March 1936, the lights of Haifa were sparkling, right up to Mount Carmel. It was like in a fairy-tale. But immediately afterwards came the disenchantment. An Arab police-woman took me aside making a body search for weapons. I was shocked to the bone, being naive and unprepared. Friends awaited me at the port and took me home with them for 3 days before I proceeded to Kvuzat Ginegar to which David Umanski had invited me.

Four week later the terrible "Arab Troubles" broke out. I could not leave the place because traveling around in the country, particularly as a single girl, became rather dangerous. So I began to work in the vineyard of Ginegar and stayed on there for five months. The work was hard but I liked it and asked my fellow-workers to talk to me only in Hebrew, in order to become familiar with the new language.

To cope with the new life-style, to the unaccustomed climate, the very different .surroundings, was not easy at all. But I had my mind firmly made up to get adjusted to everything.

The small solitary settlements were often attacked by Arab gangs. Being so few, we had to keep watch almost every night after a day's hard work. The number of weapons at our disposal was limited because the British Authorities did not allow us to keep many. Most of the rifles were even rusty and out of date. Nor did we get much sleep. In the vineyard, for instance, work began at sunrise - 4 o'clock in the morning - and went on until about 11. After a two-hour break for lunch and a short rest it continued until sunset. A shower and a frugal supper followed and then we had to go out on watch.

As I am left-handed, I had difficulties in handling a rifle and had to learn to use a revolver: However, I did not become a good markswoman. To my great relief I was never forced to aim at a human being;

Frequently, I had to keep watch at the projector which had to be turned around in a regular rhythm in order to light the nearby surroundings of the kibbutz. This was a very boring task., To keep from falling asleep, I used to hum the whole repertory of the songs I knew.

Naturally no courses of Hebrew lessons were given at the time. Today a number of so-called "Ulpanim" or studios in Hebrew are held. Here newcomers can live in a Hebrew atmosphere for several months and get used to the language before entering the work force in Israel. We did not have the leisure to study. So we stuttered, risked making mistakes, slowly got accustomed to the language, and listened to the new radio-station "Kol Jerushalayim".

Sometimes we organized a "kumsitz" - in Yiddish "Come, sit!" - in the evening. Potatoes, (if we could get any) would be roasted over an open fire in the yard. Somebody used to play the accordion or the "gramoshka" and we danced the hora or crakoviak and forgot about our daily woes. We also used to go for walks with some partner on a moon-lit night, flirting and talking. As a matter of fact it was indeed very romantic.

MY WEDDING.

Five months after my Aliyah my group, coming from the Netherlands, reached the country together with my long-time friend, Guenter. They got their certificates later than myself. Ginegar did not want to accept them. So I left to join my friends, entering another small community in the Jesreel-Valley, which was then the heart of the "Yishuv". The place is situated near the source of the River Charod, at the foot of Mount Gilboa, a beautiful spot. Guenter's Hebrew name became Jehoshua, mine being Aviva. He began to work at the nearby quarry owned by the Mandatory Government. His salary went directly to the Kibbutz which, on its part, supplied us with our essentials. I was working in the kitchen, cooking special diets and looking after the sick members.

Finally Jehoshua and I could get married, after four years of frequent separations. But there was a problem: I could hardly appear before the Rabbi in shorts, and the new dresses that I had brought with me from abroad, had been distributed among the female members. I had to look for a suitable dress and a head covering. Otherwise the wedding ceremony could not take place. Finally I managed. The necessary ring was provided by a friend, who had just been married. We met the Rabbi on our way to the "Chuppah", on foot naturally. He had to supervise a religious slaughtering first and asked us to proceed. He would follow promptly. At a Jewish wedding ceremony, ten men must be present, a "minyan". As we did not have enough male guests with us we had to ask some passers-by, to attend. The "solemn ceremony" could eventually take place. We were too young to take it seriously.

On our way back (this time in a carriage loaded with spindles for our underwear factory), one of our companions hopped off the vehicle to pick some flowers in a private garden. The surprised owner became angry., but learning the flowers were for a bride allowed us to pick them. So I got a beautiful bunch of violet bougainvillea.

After the event, sitting on the steps of our modest wooden hut, we listened to classical music, played on the gramophone my new husband had brought with him from Germany. Of course there had been no sweets or other treats, because we could not afford to buy any.

Next morning we had to return to work as we were not accorded the two days of leave we had asked for. "Why do you have to marry in the first place?" we were asked. On this very same day we had two visitors. Learning we had gotten married the day before they promptly went to the nearby village to buy some goodies. So we feasted on the delicious sweets together even if a bit late. It goes without saying that there were no wedding-presents!

At that time we could still write and receive letters from our parents in Germany. I told them about my "ceremonial wedding" in a long letter. But they did not seem too pleased with the "ceremony"! No member of my immediate family was living in the country then, which made me rather sad.

On top of Mount Gilboa, right above our camp, was an Arab village, called Nurls, Its inhabitants frequently shot-at us. The only places to find cover during shooting spells were the concrete foundations of our wooden huts. As there were no refrigerators then and electricity did not exist in our camp in any case, we used the nearby brook, flowing through the settlement, to keep our foodstuffs cool. These were kept in tins, put in the cool water. To get them out, we had to walk some distance at four o'clock in the morning. If there was shooting from above, we never knew whether to abandon the tins and run for cover or lie down next to them on the floor.

In the evening, we were not allowed, to light the kerosene lamps, owing to the security problems. We had to clap our hands constantly to prevent the prepared dumplings from being devoured by the rats, which used to wander happily over the water pipes in the kitchen.

It goes without saying that a number of tropical diseases existed, malaria and Papaditschi, an illness caused by the stings of poisonous flies. These were accompanied by high fever and a strong feeling of depression. Papaditschi was not fatal, but caused an awful weakness, leaving us nearly unable to work for a long period, especially because of the precarious poverty and the lack of nourishing food in most of the Kibbutzim at the time. The supplement of an apple or a tomato for the convalescent was a special treat. When the Kibbutz couldn’t not pay the bill from "Tnuva", the marketing corporation, we got eggplant, the cheapest food, morning, noon and night. Later on, when Guenter and I had our own household, my husband asked me in unmistakable terms never to use it again. I for one am now rather fond of it.

LIFE ON A KIBBUTZ.

As in every close-knit community, there were social problems. People were searching for new forms of living and saw as an ideal commonly owned c1othing and other individual belongings. This turned out not to be viable to everyone any more. For example, when clean garments were handed out to the members on weekends not everybody received appropriate ones. A person who had brought new suits or dresses sometimes got old and worn out ones. So, this system was abandoned, because the members became aware of its impracticality. Individual garments were made to measure for every member or checks to selected stores were distributed in order to allow the members to buy according to their personal choice and taste, within the limits of their personal budget. This was rather small, so that the members could spend their vacations only with friends or relatives.

The sociological development of the Kibbutz tended more and more to the individual way of life. As time went on, the institutions changed. It was decided to let the children, even the older ones, sleep with their parents, who got larger living quarters. The children were kept in school and kindergarten only until after lunch. At present, they are cared for by professional nurses and teachers. Only from the final school terms, do they are receive living quarters of their own, where they live together with young people their own age. The same goes for adult members who became aware of the advantage in establishing a family or a partnership. Generally speaking, life developed into an individualistic style away from the "WE" and towards the "I" This goes for Kibbutzim and the Moshavim and for villages and townships as well. The influence of the media all over the world has certainly had something to do with this development.

When our Kibbutz moved to its final settlement called "Beth Hashita", living quarters and public buildings were all loaded on to trucks and forwarded to their final destination.

Shortly afterwards, my husband and I left the Kibbutz. We lived for about half a year in Haifa with friends whom we knew from Berlin. They had asked us to help them establish their business. I looked after the wife, who had just given birth.

KIBBUTZ KFAR HACHORESH.

As we wanted to live in a smaller Kibbutz-Community, we asked Levi Eshkol (formerly Shkolnik), who was responsible for people's absorbtion into Kibbutzim at the time, to assist us to be accepted in a more intimate community. So we arrived at Kfar Hachoresh, a young, somewhat more distant Kibbuta; in Upper Galilee. The climate as well as the strategic situation was better, because of its altitude. It is one of the few Jewish settlements, surrounded by Arab villages, in the immediate vicinity of Nazareth. We became well and quickly adjusted. My husband began working in the Jewish National Fund (Keren Kayemeth), woods near the Kibbutz pruning overgrowing branches, which he liked very much.

His salary was paid directly to the Kibbutz, thereby helping to improve its budget considerably, while I myself worked mostly in the kitchen or in the laundry. This was rather hard physical work, because we had no mechanical equipment then. Meanwhile our son's appearance became imminent. But I was feeling well and healthy and was able to work nearly until his birth.

The Kibbutz is situated about 450 m above sea level on top of a mountain. To get to work, our members had to descend and so were exposed and vulnerable to attacks by Arab gangs. Shortly before our arrival one of our shepherds was murdered in cold blood. The Mandatory Government did not protect us. But one District Commissioner, a Mr. Andrew, was friendly with the Jews. He regrettably had to pay for this with his life.

Officially, being 120 Kibbutz members, we were permitted to keep only 12 rifles. Obviously, this was not nearly enough, taking into-account that we had to defend ourselves alone. So we kept additional weapons, hiding them under the mattresses of the children's beds. The British, knowing this fact, did not search too thoroughly.- When descending to work, our men took their weapons with them and had to lean them against the trees, next to those they were cutting because they never knew when and from where a bullet would be aimed at them. At night everyone had his ordered position, in case shooting should begin. Most of the women had to protect the children's quarters. We had to prepare dark garments at our bedsides, to dress and hurry to our positions at a moment's notice, in order to put the children onto prepared mats on the floor. In general, the little ones went on sleeping peacefully, and nothing disturbed them. Naturally we, the grown-ups, did not have much sleep, but we got used to it.

Ironically, there was a respite from troubles when the second World War broke out, Then the country was relatively quiet. The Arabs had other priorities at the time.

Our young men (and women) were called upon to volunteer for the British Army. Most of them answered the call. We all realized that the Allied Forces were fighting the bitterest enemy of the Jewish people. So we joined the British, ignoring the White Paper against Jewish settlement. Even many young women volunteered, and were sent abroad, together with their male comrades, mainly to Egypt.

When Italy joined the war beside the Germans, Tel-Aviv was bombed, not the "strategic targets" only, like Jaffa Port for example, as was wrongly reported in the press. Many civilians paid with their life or were maimed for the rest of it.

The media and letters were severely censored. So we were very poorly informed about what was going on in the world around us. Of course there had been some rumors about the crimes of the Nazis even during wartime. But ,only after the war came to its end, did the dimensions of the unbelievable sufferings, brought upon our people by Hitler and his helpers, became known to us in full.

Then the search began for news of the fate of our parents, relatives and friends, who had been left behind in the hell. This is not the right occasion, to tell about the pain and the sleepless tearful nights all of us went through, when we discovered, eventually, what had happened to them. The pain will never leave our us until our death.

MY SISTER LOTTE'S ARRIVAL.

In the fall of 1938, I had the tremendous good fortune to greet my sister, her husband Heinz Gabbe and their daughter Ruth then six years-old, at Haifa Port. They reached the country just two month before the Progroms of the 9th of November. I can hardly describe what this meant to me. My brother-in-law took over a small brassiére factory, a field he had worked in and known profoundly in his former home-town, when associated with his father. Because he was not familiar with the local business conditions and did not know Hebrew he asked us to assist him in establishing the new business. So, reluctantly, I left the Kibbutz, and moved to Ramat-Gan, where the Gabbes lived. My husband and one year old son Ezra joined me later on.

Now a completely new chapter in our life began. We rented a furnished room on the same floor where my sister lived with her family. She looked after the children and the household, while my brother-in-law and I got slowly acquainted with our work at the factory.

Heinz, experienced in the brassiére business, taught me cutting which was rather difficult for me because of my lack of aptitude for manual tasks. Besides, we had to buy special scissors for left-handers. The correspondence and negotiations with the authorities were among my new responsibilities.

At the time we could still be in touch with some of the countries in the Middle East. Before the outbreak of the second World War, we were able to export to countries like Lebanon, Syria and Egypt, as well as to India and Aden etc. My brother-in-law could even travel to some of them to receive orders. We had local agents there, so-called placiers, who arranged meetings between Heinz and the customers in these countries. As commercial contracts threatened to be disrupted, we had to produce in a great hurry to get the merchandise ready and to forward it on time. It was one of my tasks to negotiate with the customs and the postal authorities etc. Fortunately, I had acquired a fair knowledge and command of English, as well as of Hebrew by then. Heinz was a very good bookkeeper, and was well liked by the clientele but languages were not among his skills.- We had also Arab customers, so I studied a bit of Arabic, which was well appreciated by them. They liked my trying to talk to them in their own language. At every visit, I was offered a cup of coffee, which, out of politeness, could never be declined.

During the war we also used to get orders from the British Navy for its women-soldiers, stationed in Palestine, as well as from the Polish Anders Army.

THE RADIO.

Meanwhile, Guenter, Ezra and myself moved away from my sister's because caring for all of us had become too heavy a burden for her. We rented one of the rooms in a two-room flat, together with another young family because paying rent was too hard for a single family. Our relations were very cordial. We knew we had to-get along and be considerate of one another.

For some time, I had to work at three different places during the day owing to our very limited budget. My husband could not get work for more, than 2 or 3 days a week. So, in the morning, I used to work as a household help with a family we had known before, (who are our friends to this day). Afterwards, I worked with my brother-in-law Heinz, at the factory. In the afternoons, I did French correspondence for a wholesaler of china who imported goods from Belgium. Sometimes I visited women's hat-shops in order to sell artificial flowers, which were in fashion at the time. Our son stayed with a family during the day. In the evening, my husband or I used to carry him home on our backs, when he was mostly asleep. Housework and cooking had to be done late into the night. This was not easy because of the blackout. In summer it was particularly hard, owing to the extreme heat and the hermetically closed windows and doors in my tiny kitchen, which had to be darkened by thick window-coverings. But we had no time to be sorry for ourselves. All of us were in the same boat.- Later on, my husband got regular work at a textile-printing and dyeing factory, which improved our financial situation. But after long working hours, in dyeing the fabrics for the blackout, Guenter was covered all over with black dust and was compelled to clean himself with lots of petrol, soap and water. He did many hours of overtime, sometimes doing two or more shifts, because of the urgent war effort. Nevertheless, we were happy to be better off now.

We still had no radio. So we decided to sell Guenter's stamp collection and buy one and thus became the proud owners of a small "Pilot" radio. One morning the newly acquired item appeared in our home. My husband, just arriving from his night-shift, immediately proceeded to the radio and forgot about being tired. He sat at the radio for hours on end, listening to the news and other broadcasts. This was the first luxury we allowed ourselves.

At the time, the radio was a necessity to all of us, being the main source of information. Bearing in mind that the official broadcasting was heavily censored, a secret station had been established by the Jewish Yishuv. At fixed hours, mostly in the early evenings, we could listen to the broadcast, supplying us with live-saving information about planned attacks against the Jewish population and their approximate time and place. So we stuck close to the appliance. Listening to those "illegal" broadcasts was absolutely forbidden by the Mandatory Authorities .

Of course, we were not in the possession of a fridge, not to mention an electric one. Every morning I waited for a wagon, which passed through our street at four o'clock in the morning, to purchase a quarter block of ice which would fit into our small ice-box.

We were then living in a tiny flat on the ground floor, consisting of a living-room-kitchen, a small bedroom, equipped with 2 iron bed frames, (Ezra had to sleep in a folding bed in the kitchen), and a bath-room with shower and toilet together. This extremely small bathroom had a little window. A small chest of drawers, containing our modest possessions stood under this window. Upon getting up one morning, we discovered we had been robbed. I had not a single dress left to go to work in. So I sent my 6 year old son Ezra over to sister Lotte, who was about the same size as myself, and fortunately, she provided me with something to put on. My first reaction: I sat down on the bed, and broke into a laughing fit. I couldn’t believe that there had been anything worth "lifting"!

The break-in quickly became known in the vicinity. My neighbors, even those I hardly knew beforehand, got out every piece of linen, they could spare, giving it to us. This touched me deeply and then I broke into tears, which I did not do after the loss of our belongings. It was during the austerity era, when you could not buy anything without ration cards. At this time the solidarity was amazing and very precious. I would want to see it still. But I admit, to some extent helpfulness and friendliness exist even now. When the wave of immigrants from Eastern Europe and Ethiopia came in, deprived of the most basic necessities. most Israelis wanted to help. Not a single new immigrant spent the holidays without an invitation from some Israeli family. Unfortunately this enthusiasm has somewhat waned lately.

ALIYAH BETH.

When, after the war, the cruel truth about the Nazi-crimes became known there was enormous grief. The Allies showed insensitivity, refusing to accept these poor, suffering and hungry people, or to let them proceed to another country. The British even attacked these hunted human beings, sent them away in overcrowded, tiny nutshells of boats, and even ordered some of them back into the Nazi-hell. Several ships were forced to proceed to Mauritius or Cyprus. They put these human-beings, just out of the Concentration Camps, and after all they had gone through, into crowded camps. I still fail to understand this fact.

Then, "Aliyah Beth" got into action. This was the so-called "illegal immigration". We tried to integrate the greatest possible number of immigrants. The Jewish inhabitants who lived near the coast were called upon to take a walk near the sea-shore at night. They had to mingle with the infiltrating newcomers, in order to prevent the British Police from distinguishing between new-comers and residents.

Our Jewish Israeli soldiers, serving in Italy with the British Forces, often renounced their longed for home-leave, to hand their passports to the immigrant, instead. So a considerable number of human beings could in this way be sent to Palestine.

Among the Jewish inhabitants there was an immense willingness to help. Whole newly arrived families were accommodated into private Jewish homes, until they could be installed in permanent living quarters. My sister took in a four-member-family, to live with them in their modest, two-room apartment, without any financial compensation, naturally. Everybody did everything possible to help.

All of us were living in the most modest conditions. Contrary to later waves of immigration, we had prepared beforehand for the hard life ahead of us in the new homeland. We were sure we would be in a position to build our own country in quiet and security. After the Jewish people had been dispersed all over the world for so long, we believed that, eventually, we would have firm ground under our feet. Unfortunately, after living in the country more than sixty-one years, I have not seen this happen.

But, I shall never lose hope, the hope that my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren will finally know a life in peace and security!

THE FOUNDATION OF THE STATE OF ISRAEL.

The most important event for us was the vote at the United Nations Assembly of November 1947. All of us were sitting glued to the radio in utter suspense, listening to the voting results. When the votes had been counted and the majority came out in favor of the foundation of a Jewish State, an unbelievable spell of joy broke out immediately within the Jewish community. Everyone hugged each other, spontaneous dancing broke out in the streets and wine was spilled like water, every passer-by was given a drink. In short, there was unbelievable euphoria. But, just as Ben-Gurion had predicted, the following day already saw trouble and shooting broke out from the Arab side.

On May 14, 1948, the British administration came to an end, and all British officers, including the High Commissioner, Cunningham, left Palestine and returned to England. They were certain chaos would break out within the Jewish Yishuv. But, fortunately, we were prepared for this eventuality. The paramilitary organization, the Haganah, had instructed most of us thoroughly and practically; everyone had been trained well. In addition, the administration had been studied thoroughly. We had learned well from the Mandatory administration, although we did not have much experience in the field. At a solemn session in Dizengoff-House, named after the first Mayor of Tel-Aviv, the Declaration of Independence was read impressively by Ben-Gurion to the members of the National Assembly and the new country was named "The State of Israel."

On the following morning, a Sabbath, the first shells rained on the vicinity of Tel-Aviv. Seven Arab countries attacked the new, tiny Jewish State. The Arab population was certain that within a few days they would drive the Jews into the sea. Luckily, they did not succeed.

Trucks with loudspeakers drove through the streets, particularly in Haifa which had a mixed Jewish and Arab population at the time. Jews advised the Arab inhabitants to keep quiet and to stay indoors and nothing would happened to them. But propaganda from the adjoining Arab countries persuaded them to leave their homes, promising them that within a few days the Jews would be destroyed, and they would be able to return to their homes. So far, nearly 50 years later, they have been left by their Arab brethren in refugee camps which were erected for them.

PERSONAL REMARKS.

I now want to add some sentences about my present personal life.

After the Jewish immigrants from Germany received some compensation from the German authorities for their sufferings during the Nazi regime, I got permission to take a drinking cure at Bad Mergentheim, South Germany, to improve my health, following amoebiasis, a climatic disease which I contracted 50 years ago. I may use it there every two or three years. However, because I have to finance the trip by myself, I cannot do it on a regular basis.

In 1977 I went there for the first time, accompanied by my husband, Guenter. When we went for the second time, in 1981, my husband became seriously ill and, to my greatest sorrow, passed away during our stay there. Within one week, he succumbed to a severe heart attack, together with emphysema, an aftermath of his heavy smoking. Obviously, this came to me as a terrible shock. I could not take him home to Israel, in order to bury him here, because I could not afford it, being short of the necessary funds and was compelled to bury him at Mergentheim's General Cemetery. A Jewish cemetery does not exist at Mergentheim anymore.

Fortunately, my son Ezra could join me, just one day before his father's death, so I was not entirely on my own. My hosts showed extraordinary helpfulness and arranged every formality, including the funeral proceedings. We shall never forget what these two kind people, Christa and Juergen, have done for us. Meanwhile, unfortunately, Christa has lost her husband too. He was only 59 years old, she was just at the beginning of her fifty's. She considerately looks after my husband's grave regularly. When she visits the graves of her loved ones, she also puts flowers on his grave. So we have remained good friends ever since, staying in touch. Whenever I am in a position to do so, I am going to go there for a visit.

At present, I am eighty-four years old and have been living since 1990 with my son Ezra and his wife, Ronit, , in a small village about ten miles north of Tel-Aviv. I feel very comfortable and hope to end my days with my family. We are on very good terms and I am happy to be able to be of some help by keeping house, in order to assist my daughter-in-law, who is still working full time at a large school, as head-secretary. So that she need not occupy herself with too much housekeeping after work. I do most of the shopping and most of the cooking as well as hanging up and taking down the laundry and part of the ironing.

I also swim in a nearby swimming-pool and do some gymnastic exercises in order to keep fit. Not to neglect the spirit, I am busy writing a diary, translating rather frequently, and keeping in touch with friends all over ,the world. I also lectured about improvement of human relations, visiting a circle with Adler-oriented psychologists for quite a long period. Until two years ago, I also attended lectures for retirees at the Tel-Aviv and Bar-Ilan-Universities, mainly on social issues. All this keeps me busy and turns my thoughts away from myself. It gives me great satisfaction to assist elderly people, who are not as lucky as I am, to avoid becoming too dependent on other people, but to help themselves to the best of their ability. This strengthens their ego and let them still see a purpose in life.

As I mentioned before, my brother-in-law, my sister’s husband passed away in 1992 at the Retirement Home where my sister is still living. This institution was founded as early as 1944 by immigrants from Middle European countries, is entirely supported by them, and does not ask for government assistance. My sister Lotte is now 88 years old and in rather good shape. She has one daughter and son-in-law, one grand-daughter, Irith, married to a nice husband, Jossy, and three wonderful great-grand-children. The oldest girl is 12 years old, the second 9 and her great-grandson is a toddler, aged one and a half years old, making her a very happy and proud great-grand-mother.

I, myself, am blessed with a son, Ezra, and daughter-in-law, Ronith, as well as two grand-children. The elder is a young woman of 34, and has a husband, Ilan and a two and a half year-old son, Dor, (which means generation). He is the fourth generation of our family living in Israel, and gives me great happiness. My grandson, Oren, thirty years old, has been married for two years. He is living with his wife, Illy, in Haifa. They are expecting their first child. Oren lived in the Far East for approximately five years and returned to Israel two years ago.

My days were always filled to the brim, and so they are still. I am glad to be busy, having neither time nor inclination to think much about myself. I enjoy being able to help others even at my advanced age.

If this short report should appeal to some members of my family for whom it is especially written, and to a small number of additional readers, its aim is amply fulfilled.

I want to thank you all warmly, for your attention, patience and understanding!

It may be that some of my readers, who do not live in our country, will become interested in my report and thus will better understand, what it means to be an Israeli. I certainly, with all my heart, strongly feel myself one. I cannot imagine living anywhere else.

EPILOGUE.

This report does not claim to be a literary product. It just aims, to paint an organized and very summary picture of my long life, conveying what it has been like and what made it worth while. It is a short survey of my recollections. I do not believe it is the end of it, nor of my activities. Quite the contrary: I hope to continue to learn and to witness many memorable events and to be able to make other people see the good and positive things around us. I would like to convey to my fellow human beings a bit of my optimism. Life has always some positive things in store for everybody. We just have to open our eyes.

It is my fervent wish, first of all, to stay independent, not to have to be helped by others and to remain of sound mind for the rest of my days. I am clearly aware of the many, many problems of my little country and of the whole world, but I am sure no other people wants so ardently to live in peace and security as the Israelis! This is amply proved by every single song or poem and in our greetings. "Shalom" means Peace. We really mean it, and are so tired of the many wars and troubles!

Nevertheless, the tiny State of Israel, has constantly been presented as an aggressor and oppressor of another people, always involved in violent actions. I am sorry to say that since I arrived here, I have hardly experienced a respite from stress and death. Our people are in constant danger and they seem to be rude, sometimes. But I can assure you, everybody will be welcome in Israel. The "Sabre" - cactus - is prickly outside, and sweet within.

I consider it my task to contribute to enlightenment and information, because the media abroad are not very objective in reporting about Israel. So I used to write to my friends and acquaintances, sending them clippings from our Israeli press, in order inform them about the country and its inhabitants.

I suppose most of the conflicts the world over are the consequence of ignorance or misunderstanding between people, not knowing - and not even wanting to know - anything about their fellow humans. They are unable to listen to one another and, instead, are already busy preparing the argument they intend to bring forward, before even listening to what the other one wants to say. This is a pity. They could spare themselves and others much pain and aggression. I try, though I do not always succeed, to put myself in the place of my interlocutor and to listen to, what he or she has to say, even if I have another opinion. With a little goodwill and patience one can avoid a lot of trouble. This is not easy, but if I want to be listened to, I have to listen to others as well.

I am really grateful to my late parents for having taught me tolerance and belief that there are some good qualities in every human being. With this attitude you will never lose hope for a better future. I very much want to convey this belief to everyone who is prepared to listen.

There were many ups and downs in my life, good-byes and meetings again, sickness and recoveries, descents and ascents, lots of hard work and endeavor, but also plenty of pleasant events and delight. How many meetings with interesting persons did I enjoy and how many friends crossed my path! For everything I am deeply grateful, and from everything I tried to learn. All this considered, it has been a good life!

Kfar Sirkin/Israel. July 1997.

A HUNDRED YEARS UNDER ONE HAT.

By GERT HOEHNE

Perhaps the elegant facade, the large gate with its wrought iron wings, and the engraved letter "G" of the family Gattel which can be seen to this day, give the onlooker of the property at Prinzenallee 58 a hint of its hundred year old history. The huge, four-story rear building, obviously a former factory, is completely separated from the building in front and from neighboring houses. It looks like a fortress. While at the front remains of the neoclassical stuccos are present, the rear building shows a functional clinker facade. After many years, this building is again spoken of as a self- managed housing project. It became a meeting place for the "Kiez" (living quarter), a place for social happenings... Some ancient inhabitants even remember that a Jewish family "named Gattel" had once lived here. Sometime during the Nazi-regime the factory was transformed into living quarters .

ABOUT THE HISTORY OF THE: BUILDING.

On August 31, 1852, the owner of the dyery, D. Rittdorf, at Neue Schoenhauser Strasse 16, received the permit to build a dwelling house on fhe site of Prinzenallee Nr. 32 (later: 57/58).

In 1871 the subsequent owner, manufacturer of saffian -leather, C. Seller, founded a factory for glacé-leather on the premises. At Prinzenallee, besides the river Panke, there are eleven factories, all producing leather products in their workshops. First and foremost, they produce the expensive glacé-leather for gloves and boots. The home crofter buildings, some with front gardens, still dominate the site. During the 1880's, the expansion of multi-storied buildings began, typical for the Wedding-Quarter, and for Berlin as a industrial metropolis. But, an idyllic, country-like atmosphere prevails so far. Nevertheless, this rural situation did not remain undisturbed. The location on the shores of the Panke, was well suited for the tanneries and similar workshops, because of the convenience of the waste water disposal. Of course, the tanners had been ordered to install special basins for the rinsing of skins, but more often than not, they ignored this order. The disposal of waste water remained a constant nuisance. By 1885, so many ingredients harmful to health were found in the water of the "stinking Panke" that the curing installations had to be closed down for good.

On November 16, 1889 the government architect, George Levy, asked for a permit on behalf of the Jewish Gattel Brothers, to build a hat factory at Prinzenallee 58. The merchant, Borchard Gattel, together with his brothers, Moritz and Lee opened, a company producing men's caps, at the Neue Koenig Strasse in 1868. From the original small workshop, a prosperous hat factory developed. The one-story rooms proved to be too small. So, after a building period of about two years, a four-story factory was completed. Its four wings enclose a rectangular yard. As was usual with industrial buildings, the construction consists of bricked outer walls and iron pillars inside, bearing the load of the building and changing into Prussian-type head-pieces. The skeleton-like front structure demonstrates, even now, the building's character.

Towards the Panke, some one-story halls contain, inter allium, the dyeing department. The boiler-installation housed the power steam-engine.

Steam is one of the most important resources for the hat-production. Not as a source of power as it once was, but in order to assist in producing felt. Moisture and warmth soften the felt, which has to be constantly retooled. Steam-pipes led from the steam-house to all other departments. Bathing facilities for the workers were installed in the cellar and looked after by a co-worker. This institution was unusual. But it proved to be necessary, to clean the workers from the clinging woolen fuzz.

The patrician-styled building at Prinzenallee 58 was completed, together with the factory building. Additional living quarter for some of the workers were built at Prinzenallee Nr. 57.

On September 4th, 1891, the factory for men's hats produced from wool-felt, was open for production. About 175 people were involved in the working process during the years of prosperity.

THE GATTEL-FAMILY.

Moritz Gattel died in 1908. In the same year, Bertha and Borchard Gattel's son, Richard, was promoted and permitted to sign on behalf of the company. After his father's death, in 1913, he led the company, at first alone. When, in 1919, the last of the founders generation resigned, Richard appointed his younger brother, Max, to join him in managing the company. So, the fate and the lives of the family-members became firmly connected to the building at Prinzenallee 58.

Both brothers had learned the trade, with their father, right from the beginning of the production-process before taking charge of the family-business. While Richard managed the company from within the premises, Max represented it in Germany and abroad, and also bought the needed raw material. The former "boss-office" of the two brothers, where the writing tables stood, is the only room, which has survived the countless tribulations. Wooden panels and inlaid wood bear witness to ancient splendor. Even now, when the inhabitants use the rooms for practical purposes, it is spoken of as "the Office".

The elegant front-house was once home to the producers' families: Richard (born on 3.6.1870), his wife, Ella, née Pinthus, (born on 23.7.1884) and their two daughters, Lotte, (born 25.2.1909) and Anni, (born on 4.1.1913) as well as Max (born 1875) his wife Anneliese, née Hirsch and their only daughter, Inge-Johanna (born 4.6.1922). In summertime most of the family life took place in the beautiful, spacious garden, which extended to the banks of the river Panke, behind the factory-building. It boasted a wooden porch and even a bowling ground. There is nothing left to remind one of this idyllic picture, which was a rarity in this part of the city. It is a wasteland and parking spaces were set up behind the river Panke.

THE HAT-FACTORY.

Before and during World War I, the company was a prosperous family business with up to 175 male and female workers. "DER GATTEL-HUT" was a well-known brand. The slogan: "YOUR HAT IS ONE: NUMBER TOO SMALL!" sounds rather up to date. World War and economic crisis did not spare the hat production all over the world. Wool and other raw materials became ever more expensive and harder to come by. Fashion also played a decisive role: bicycling and beginning of car-driving caused the public to feel the sensation of impracticability of wearing a hat. Hat-fashions changed daily and finally hats were worn on Sundays only. During the Twenties, the ever more politically-oriented trend hastened the disappearance of the hat. The radical worker wore his conviction on his head - like the so-called "Thaelmann-Cap." This went, obviously, for the hat-workers as well. In 1928 someone wrote satirically to the "German Hat-Worker" asking: "Where did you leave your hat?"

Naturally, The Gattel-Factory also suffered from this trend. The company was running into dire economic straits. In 1931 the production at Prinzenallee 58 had to be suspended. On July 16, 1932, the site was put under forced administration, seemingly upon suggestion of the creditor banks. Whether there were only economic reasons, or whether adversaries used politically-motivated anti-Semitism against the Jewish owners, is difficult to prove.

A building contractor by the name of Joseph Schmitz was imposed on the owners. On August 1933 the forced administrator turned "owner" without paying anything. Apparently, he was a true member of the National-Socialistic party!

The price paid was documented as RM 410,00. The site was registered at Department III Nr. 17, as the first mortgage with the Hypothekenbank Hamburg, amounting to GM 410.00, the customer being the one and only self-creditor. The liabilities will not be taken over by the customer!

Schmitz changed the upper three stories of the factory building into 67 one- and two- room-apartments. The Michel company established a steam-laundry on the ground-floor. The house took on much the same appearance which it mainly has today. On April 12, 1940, Joseph Schmitz sold the site to "Hotel-Betriebs-Aktiengesellschaft Berlin", which among other things. owned the "Aranized" Kempinski-business, as well as the Berlin Hotels Bristol, Kaiserhof, Atlantik, Zentral-Hotel and Baltik. The purchase price was "the business-value" of RM 561,00.

TRANSFER TO GUBEN.

The Gattel brothers reacted to the first signs. Foreseeing economic difficulties in the family business, they founded a Gebrueder Gattel G.m.biH. (Gattel Brothers Limited) situated in Guben/Neisse. Guben had been the center of the hat-production trade in Germany since the nineteenth century.

The felt-hat-industry in Guben hails back to the hat producer Carl Gottlob Wilke (1796-1875), born in Forst (Lausitz), who settled in Guben in 1822. With diligence and by adapting to the fashion of the times he succeeded during years of his stubborn industry, in spite of several setbacks, in developing the original hatter’s-workshop,. so that it could be converted to mechanical operation in 1859.

In 1864 the business was established at the site where it remains to this day. The art of hat-production from wool was the long-guarded secret of C.G. Wilke's invention. It caused a sensation in this branch. Beginning in 1854, C.G. Wilke produced weather-proof, marketable hats. Until then, men's hats of similar quality could have been produced only from rabbit's hair. The family's next generation was able to expand production greatly. The company was, until recently, thought to be among the most prestigious of businesses.

After production at Prinzenallee 58, had to be stopped, "Gattelhuete" were still being produced under this brand name in Guben, on the premises of C. G. Wilke. Obviously, the sale of a product with a well-known trade mark promised well. Only the confidential clerk of Gattel Brothers, Herzog, moved to Guben. The brothers, Max and Richard Gattel and their families continued to live in Berlin. After the property at Prinzenallee had changed hands, Max and Anneliese moved to Clausewitz Strasse 2, while Richard and Ella rented an apartment at Albrecht Achilles Str. 7a.

Richard used to go to Guben to work twice a week’ while Max continued, at first, to travel all over the world selling Gattel-products. From 1936 on, Jewish businesses were compelled to sell at minimum-prices. The Gattel's became victims of these practices as well. Richard and Max were thrown out by their Christian partner. They received a token amount as compensation, hardly enough to live on for two or three months, practically expropriating them. Nevertheless, the Gattel firm continued to exist under this name. It is thus documented in the residents register of Guben, even up to 1939, long after the Gattel's were driven out of the business. The site of the premises formerly called Gasstrasse 4, had been renamed as S.A.Street. Probably the firm existed even after the Second World War and then was renamed and integrated into a factory "owned by the people". Seven former hat factories from Berlin were accommodated under the same roof. It produced under the nazme of "Werthut".

From 1952 the name changed to "Vereinigte Hutwerke," from 1970, changed again to "Hutkombinat." Head-covers for the East-European market were manufactured there during the DDR-Regime. It seems that Mr. Herzog continued to work at the VEE for a long time afterwards.

After the fall of the Berlin Wall, the name was changed to "Gubener Huete AG." So far, the future of this company is more than nebulous.

THE "ARYANIZATION"

Research into the background of the "aryanization" and the future existence of the business proves very difficult, owing to the fact that most parts of the city had been destroyed by bombing. Except for the above-mentioned register of residents of 1939, nearly no records are left.

Like many of the patriotic Jews, my parents under-estimated the great danger threatening them by the mounting anti-Semitism of the Htler era. In spite of the continuing deterioration in the living conditions of the Jewish population, they stubbornly believed in a constitutional state of Germany.

The systematic elimination of the bare existence of the Jews began with the "Laws of Nurernberg" on September 15, 1935. These were followed by ever harsher directives, some of which will be mentioned below:

• 1.9.1937: Obligation to wear the Star of the Jews, (the yellow star) from the age of six.
• 17.8.1938 : Ordinance, to add the name Israel for men and Sarah for women to the given name, (from 1.1.1939).
• 12.11.1939: Ordinance to oust the Jews from economic life.
• 30.4.1939 Cancellation of tenant's protection for Jews.:
• From 4.7.1940 Jews are permitted to purchase of foodstuffs only between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon.

The dry and bureaucratic wording of these ordinances were slated to give an appearance of "normalcy". Even in the protocols of the ill-famed "Conference 6 Wannsee" of 20.1.1942, at which the so-called "final solution" of the "Jewish Question" was decided, the organizational and-technical character was stressed. Actually, it is just a cloak, to cover up the annihilative policy of the Nazi-administration, at the end of which five to six million Jews had been murdered.

Among these victims were Richard and Max Gattel and their spouses, Ella and Anneliese. Bereaved of their means of living, prevented from working, they spent their remaining years under those inhuman conditions, which turned to cruel reality for the Jews under the Nazies.

Richard Gattel's last address in Berlin, was Regensburger Strasse 13. There the septuagenarian lived with his wife, Ella, in a tiny room with an emergency kitchen. The former children's nurse, Elli Klimpel, assisted them, endangering her own life, and provided them with the most urgently needed items. In the declaration of "Property" which they were forced to sign, before being deported on September 8, 1942, they named the few remaining items:

Richard and Ella were deported with one of the so called "transports of 1943 for old people" to Theresienstadt, where he died on January 29, from exhaustion and malnutrition. According to recent information from a documentation center at Kibbutz Givat Chayim in Israel, Ella seems to have died between March 14 and 16, 1944. We presume that she may have taken her own life, threatened with further deportation to her certain death in a camp in Poland. Max and Anneliese Gattel were living, also with the help of friends, at their flat on Clausewitz Street, until their deportation in 1942, to Eastern Europe, to a concentration-campin the vicinity of Minsk, and probably murdered. Their fate is not known. In the same year, their surviving daughter, Inge-Johanna, received a sole and last message through the Red Cross, reading: "I believe now in G'tt!" Richard and Max had three sisters, Claire Herzberg nee Gattel, who had died in 1936, Ella Gattel (born on 18.12.1883), and Lucy Blumberg, née Gattel, some years younger. Ella worked at the laboratory in the Jewish Hospital on Iranische Strasse for many years.

On December 22, 1942, fearing the impending deportation, she committed suicide, together with her beloved younger sister, Lucy, and her husband, Erich. On 17.2.1943 her, capital was confiscated "in favor of the Reich". In a letter to the President of the Finance-Ministery, the Dresdener Bank cited it at RM 259,50. The letter was duly signed: "Hell Hitler!"

Dresdener Bank,

Depositen-Kasse 76

Badstrasse 35/36.

Richard and Ella Gattels daughters, Lotte (Gabbe) and Anni (Wolff) emigrated to Palestine, Anni in 1936, Lotte with her husband and daughter Ruth in 1938. Inge, Max and Anneliese's only daughter, was sent in 1939 with a Kinder-Transport to England, where she lives permanently. She never married and has converted to Catholicism.

Lotte and Anni are well settled, living in Israel. On the occasion of the Jubilee "100 year under one hat", celebrating and documenting the history of the Gattel factory and their family at Prinzenallee 58, five surviving members of the family were invited as private guests to Berlin in September 1991.

In the framework of the "Erzaehl-Cafe", they gave a short survey of their life, stressing their early years in Berlin.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS.

ANNI WOLFF, born on January 4, 1913 in Berlin-Wedding, at Prinzenallee Nr.84, is the second daughter of Richard Gattel and his spouse, Ella, née Pinthus. 1936, immigration to Palestine(later Israel). In the same year, 1936, she was married to Guenter Wolff, also from Berlin. September 1937, birth of their only son, Ezra-Benjamin. Since 1977, several visits to Germany.

GERT HOEHNE, born 1953, since the eighties, working as an author and creative artist. Publications: "Delirium Siemens" and "Die Angst vor'm Entzug", also poetry and short prose (1992.)

SOURCE OF THE PICTURES.

The photographs have been supplied by Lotte Gabbe and Anni Wolff, except the technical graphic drawings of the buildings.

THANKS.

My heart-felt thanks go to the local offices of the Wedding-District, department of popular education, for the allowance out of the budget of the cultural decentralized work.