Switzerland to England

Mom's Memoirs:

Switzerland was “neutral”, but it was bordering on Germany, Italy and France, the “Free French” still controlled the South of France (Marseilles having become a pseudo-capital), and this provided the last escape route from continental Europe: France, Spain, Portugal, and from there to USA or England. The Swiss were very anxious to get rid of all their foreigners with anti-German orientations, so they actually helped us to get out: there is a railroad station in Geneva adjacent to the as yet not occupied French side which is not used by the international trains (Gare des Eaux Vives[1] -it was essentially the station for excursions into Haute Savoie); this was made accessible to us. The French, with the Germans breathing down their neck, did not want to take the chance that any of these refugees might be stopping in France so they only gave us transit visas after the Swiss agreed to provide a police escort once a week, who was to take us through France and bring back to Switzerland any of us who might be refused entry into Spain (Franco -controlled). Once we were safely in Barcelona the police officer left us.

There was a little intermezzo in Barcelona, one of those one-day incidents one somehow never forgets: a group of Dutch officers had joined us for our departure from Geneva; they had fled from the occupation forces in Holland by making their way South with the help of people whose names were given to them from one stop to the next. Their destination was Bilbao, and from there to the West Indies, where they were to rejoin the Dutch forces. I was to leave for Madrid and from there to Lisbon the next day. But there was a 24 hour layover in Barcelona for all of us. The Dutch consul came to meet his compatriots and I was invited to spend the day with them. The Consul took us all over the town. A lovely city, I always wished I could have gone back there one day, but I never did. We spent the night at a hotel and I shared the room with the only woman in the Dutch group, a KLM Airline hostess, named Trish. We knew that I would have a KLM flight out of Portugal, and she asked me to tell the crew that she was all right. (Gee, there was excitement on the plane: the pilot came to the cabin to ask me what I knew, the whole crew knew her!) I had dinner with one of the officers at the very elegant hotel, everything was topnotch, except that there was practically nothing to eat! Spain was starving.

The next day I set off for Madrid by train. The first thing that happened was that all the Spaniards put on some dust coats, and I soon found out why: it was midsummer , very hot, all the windows were open and we drove through a virtual desert: the way I remember it, the whole stretch from Barcelona to Madrid was covered in dust. At the station in Madrid we were stopped by a guy with a lot of visiting cards in his hand that he wanted us to go through to see who we knew, and since there was only one way out of Europe and everybody who had got out of Switzerland had gone the same way, there were a whole number of names we knew. (“We” at this point was me and a fellow from Geneva, Joe Protter[2], on his way to Israel via Lisbon) So we let this man give us a tour, essentially of the battle areas from the Civil War; (Madrid was still very much destroyed at that time). That evening we continued by train to Lisbon; what a change! The Portuguese train was spotlessly clean, but by contrast to the Spanish train, which was punctual to the minute, this one arrived in Lisbon hours late![3]

I had no idea how long I would have to stay in Lisbon; my passport had been sent by diplomatic courier to the British Consul in Lisbon (I was traveling -as were the Dutch-with fake identity papers issued by the Swiss; our ages were changed (so that we appeared as not to be of military age, i.e. 18 - 35), and so were our professions. We were handed a sample questionnaire, like the one we were going to be given at the border, and were told to copy the answers as shown, My mother knew a Portuguese gentleman, a Dr. Moreira[4], in Lisbon for whom she had made translations of scientific texts from German into French (their common language) before the War. He made himself quite helpful, i.a. found me a boarding house where I could stay until my departure. All I remember of that was the wonderful soups they served! I also don’t remember how we spent the time; we met a brother/sister pair, our age, from Paris who were also on their way to the States (There is a photo of us in the album) Some travel agency was in charge of my ongoing travel (Danzas?[5]), but there was not much traffic between the continent and England, the Germans were still bombarding the British coast, and our flight, when we eventually got one, flew a very long way out to the Azores before turning towards England and a landing in Bristol. (They took the detour because a few days earlier a flight to Bristol with the actor Leslie Howard on board had been shot down - Churchill was supposed to be on that plane[6]). All the windows in the airplane were painted black (for blackout) so we didn’t see a thing, a very strange feeling, and it was a pretty long flight too. My parents knew that I had arrived in Lisbon, but they were prepared for several weeks’ delay, had no idea that for some reason my stay there had been shortened to just a few days. A telegram I sent them arrived a few days after me! Thus I arrived at the RR station in Manchester late at night and nobody was there to greet me. Taxis in wartime England were almost nonexistent, I had never been to Manchester, so had no ides where my parents lived. Luckily it was a rare gorgeous summer night, Moon lit, so the blackout didn’t seem so oppressive. A bunch of people were at the station trying to get home, so we arranged for a joint cab. I was the last one to be let off, and it was kind of eerie: where my parents lived was in a room in an old mansion, situated in extensive grounds, Langham Court. So I stood there in front of that fairy tale castle, not knowing how to gain entrance to the place, when luckily someone opened a window: a lady had heard the car, she was waiting for her husband to get home; she asked me whether I was the Jonas daughter - evidently everyone knew about my expected arrival-, so she let me in and conducted me to my parents’ room. They had been out that evening, had taking sleeping pills, and were fast asleep. I’ll never forget how my father, who had not seen me in three or four years greeted me with “why didn’t you stay at a hotel?” Frankly, that had never occurred to me! So there I was, loaded down with luggage and two fresh pineapples which I had purchased at the airport in Lisbon, in their small furnished room in the middle of the night!We put two chairs together and there I was bedded down for the rest of that night ( I was young then, so I guess I could sleep like that ). I think I got a room of my own the next day, but we did not stay there much longer, my parents had already rented an apartment for us, anticipating my arrival.

Report of the trip Geneva - Lisbon, convoy of July 1942.[7]

[In French; Google translate below]

We left Geneva from the Gare des Eaux-Vives at 3.00 p.m. The customs examination in Geneva was rather painstaking; i.e. Proter has taken some of his medicine and two more soap. (They were too exposed to the control.) As for me, they claimed the state of my bags, because the export is prohibited, but I was able to pass them anyway. The provisions were not watched closely and so we were able to lay with us whatever we had prepared. (Or much more than marked on the travel agency sheet.)

After eight minutes of travel, first exit of the train for customs at Annemesase. Declaration and control of currencies. Almost all the men were searched, a few cigarettes weakening the effect. Easy customs for everyone. - Stop for one hour, then change of train. Two second class cars are reserved for our convoy of 19 people (5 of which travel in sleeping cars). There were 5 German nationals, 3 Polish (one of whom traveled with Lithuanian paper and two with identity papers), 1 Swiss and the rest of the Dutch, There was only Proter who was of military age there, i.e. .d. between 20 and 30 years old. The train is crowded. --- Each traveler whose passport is not established in Geneva is entitled to import and spend 200.- frs.fr. The people of Geneva can also import 200.- frs but comes out at least 120, - We each had 120, - frs. of which only 50, - at our personal disposal: 150. francs per person were collected by the agent, who accompanied us to Barcelona, ​​and were intended for the common supper that we had in Chambéry during the 3/4 hours of the train's stop at the station buffet. Supper was well understood and full enough. There was also plenty of wine, but at our expense. In addition, each of us had already received, by our agent, a "cornet" [basket?] with fruit and sandwiches upon entering France.

The trip through France went smoothly in a very friendly atmosphere. Change of trains in Narbonne at 7 am. We had no more reserved cars, but in hurrying we still found enough space. Arrival in Corbères at 11 am. Currency declaration, light customs control. Our controlled passports were given to us by the customs officer, because our agent had removed them from us upon entering France. - Change of train and 8 minutes later arrival at Fort Bou. An agent of "Marsans" is at the station. Very careful controlled papers. Proter, however, passes like all the others. Only a 21-year-old Pole coming from France with his papers in order was arrested and could not be released until after great efforts. The customs control was ridiculous as the customs officers themselves asked us for cigarettes to pass our luggage without opening them. (A few cigarettes are enough!) - After checks, dinner at the station buffet (still included in the price of the trip). Corn bread instead of wheat bread, but plenty of new. We have time to go look at the city. Departure at 4 o'clock in second, very comfortable wagons and lots of space, only a little dusty. Very pleasant trip until arriving in Barcelona at 9 o'clock in the evening. The bus from the Hotel Oriente[8] is waiting for us at the station and takes us, along with all our hand luggage, directly to the hotel. (Approximately 10 minutes journey). Meals at the hotel are not included in our arrangement made by Danzas, while they are for people traveling with Blenk and Fert. - The next day, on Saturday, visit to the Marsans[9] agency (5-10 min. From the hotel, in the same street) where we hand over our Barcelona-Madrid rail tickets against our vouchers and where we return our tickets. large baggage because the Marsans agency takes care of transport to the other station and re-registration.

On the way, we learned that the 3rd class, for which our tickets were made for the Madrid-Lisbon route, is extremely unpleasant in Spain, and we wanted to try to change them to 2nd class biIlets, This was impossible to do in Barcelona .

In Barcelona it is the end of the accompanied convoy. Most travelers go to Bilbao. There are only 4 travelers left for Lisbon, two of them in sleeping cars. Departure from Barcelona at 7:50 pm Proter and I have tickets for the 2nd with reserved seats. Note: The 2nd car is built like a tram without interior partitions. The resulting disadvantage is that due to an infinite number of narrow tunnels this car is continuously filled with suffocating smoke and becomes terribly dirty. Even the Spanish workers who make up most of the passengers are annoyed to finish --- There is a restaurant car, but only for those who have dinner. He is released after supper and returned for breakfast at 9 am. - Arrival in Madrid on Sunday morning at 11 a.m. sharp. Marsans' agent is waiting for us. - We are going to the Nacional hotel, following the advice of the Danzas agency in Switzerland. We had the address of a certain Mr. Perez, Hộtel Nora, who has already made himself useful to other travelers of previous convoys. Perez knows all about travel, serves as a guide and as an interpreter, and we can advise to get in touch with him, if necessary, upon arrival at Madrid station. (Simply ask, according to Mr. Perez, we know him). Obviously he allows himself to be paid for his services and it is necessary to monitor his accounts a little. They rendered us precious services changing our tickets from 3rd to 2nd. Note: it is impossible to travel on 3rd due to the indescribable state of the Spanish wagons on this route.

At Madrid station, before departure, you must re-register the large baggage, which is immediately passed through customs and sealed. It will only go through Portuguese customs in Lisbon.

Departure from Madrid from Delicias station (Arrival was at Atocha station) at 9 pm. Quite pleasant trip in 2nd. Passport control on the train. (Another check had already taken place on the Barcelona-Madrid route. Each time, in addition to the passport, a safe-conduct paper must be presented which had been given to us at the border).

Arrival in Valencia da Alcantara at 7 am. Declaration of currency, customs, passports. You can get out up to 100.- pesetas by changing them into escudos. Easy formalities like at the entrance. One hour stop, enough time for lunch, Departure for Marvao at 9:20 am Easy customs on the train. Large baggage re-registration. (No customs.) Little stopping, no train traffic. Restaurant car. Arrival in Lisbon at 5.30 p.m. instead of 4 p.m.

Some general remarks:

1) Costs: On the way there are the costs of baggages, three times, in Barcelona, ​​Madrid and Marvao. Then any hotel costs. In our arrangement, the night at the Hotel Oriente in Barcelona was theoretically included, practically the hotel presented us with a bill for all kinds of expenses: bus, luggage, various non-controllable services. In Madrid we can theoretically do without a hotel, practically we get there so dirty and so tired that it is essential. The Nacional hotel is very comfortable, but too expensive for us Perez recommends the Nora hotel which is also near the train station and which is cheaper.

2) Food: There is quite enough food for travelers both in France and Spain. Yet it is quite expensive, especially in Spain. We strongly advise against having breakfast at the Hotel 0riente! In Spain there is no bread, otherwise we have no complaints. Dinner in the Portuguese Restaurant Wagon is very good and appetizing, however not cheap.

3) Stay in Lisbon: We were not recommended a hotel Mr. Anderau, Danzas agent in Lisbon, drove us to Pensao Esplandida. We have to pay 30, - escudos per day, the food is excellent, wine available at midday and in the evening, but the rooms are very unpleasant. From the second day I went to live with friends in an outbuilding of the Pensao Ritz, Avenida de la Liberdade. It costs only 25.- esc. per day, but the rooms are not better and the food incomparably poorer. The boss is very friendly.

4) Departure from Lisbon: We have witnessed the departure of some of our friends for America. There are a lot of formalities to sort out before departure. First of all at the Hicem, where there are even sometimes surprises as in the case of Ms. Goldmann from Geneva, who was convinced that she had a second place on the boat and who learned - at the penultimate minute - that there was only a 4th place reserved for her. Incapable neither to start in 4th nor to fend for itself, it is Proter who arrived with great difficulty to get him the downgrade in 3rd at least. Then you have to get vaccinated (if it has not already been done) and pass a health check. You have to take the suitcases out of customs and get an exit vísa. This normally lasts a few days, but paying a supplement of 20.- esc. we can have it in three hours. If you stay more than 8 days in Portugal you must have a residence permit. For the departure for the U.S.A., a sort of safe-conduct is preferably established by the British Consulate.

Notes:

1. There is a Facebook post (in French) about the role of this train station during World War II.

2. In the detailed journal, she spells this Proter. Looking up Joseph Proter, I may have found him: According to his Geni biography (Google translate of Hebrew): "Joseph was born in the German city of Cologne to the Frutter family. After completing his training as a child psychologist at the University of Bern, he immigrated to Israel. He enlisted in the intelligence service of the British Army and soon received the rank of officer. As part of his duties he was stationed in his hometown of Cologne and in parallel with the fulfillment of his military duties engaged in a hunt for Nazis who tried to evade the terror of the law. During one of his missions he met Irena Klein, a young actress, a Christian German, and the two fell in love and got married. At the end of the war, Yosef returned to Palestine, and the couple settled in Kiryat Matalon. Yosef joined the Shin Bet and later the Mossad. Orna converted to Judaism, and the couple adopted two children, Little and Yoram. With his encouragement and support, Orna founded the Theater for Children and Youth in 1970. Over the years, Yosef became one of the pillars of the Mossad. Man and the values ​​of Judaism. His contribution to the security of the State of Israel and even to the fulfillment of the vision of peace between the State of Israel and Egypt and then with Jordan will be invaluable. His plots and work will remain hidden for many years to come."

3. According to the detailed journal, it arrived 1.5 hours late!

4. Manuel Vicente Moreira. Know full name because there were a series of postcards (see below) from him to Granny (from 1930 to 1937) that were kept, mostly about her translation work for him, often with salutation of greetings to Mom and her father.

5. According to the detailed journal, yes, Danzas (now a division of DHL). A long history of Danzas says, about this period: "A brief upswing in its fortunes was brought to an abrupt end with the outbreak of World War II. Branches in France and Germany were largely shut down in 1939 and those in Italy were closed in 1940. Danzas concentrated its efforts on Switzerland’s supply line via neutral Portugal. Hans Hatt, a future Danzas chairman, spent the war years in Lisbon helping maintain this traffic."

6. June 1, 1943. Mom must have conflated his death with the similar trip she took, but, of course, that was almost a year earlier. Long discussion of death of Leslie Howard aboard that flight. Churchill was in Algiers and was supposed to be returning to England soon. Also on the flight was "a possible case of mistaken identity in Leslie Howard’s tax advisor and agent, Alfred Chenhalls, a tubby, bald, cigar-smoking bon viveur, who bore a resemblance to Winston Churchill."

7. Don't know when Mom wrote this. Given the notes at the end, it seems to be partly for advice for people who might be taking the same route as her (maybe someone who might know who "Proter" was), which means she has to have written this soon after her trip.

8. Presumably this hotel.

9. Marsans was part of a large travel group but went bankrupt in 2010.