Brenda Bailey

My parents, Leonhard and Mary Friedrich, had started a Quaker Meeting of about forty people in Nürnberg, Germany, in 1923. It had developed out of the post-war relief work financed by British and American Friends.

Before 1933 when Hitler became Chancellor, Quakers were already aware that the military and racialist principles of the Nazi party would create problems. Leonhard Friedrich lost his job in 1934 because he would not join the Party. While he was invited to Woodbrooke College for the autumn term, my mother Mary was summoned to the Nürnberg police and informed that Leonhard was making anti-Nazi statements about Germany in England. There must have been a Nazi spy among the language students there.

The 18^th-century Quaker house in Bad Pyrmont was being rebuilt as a conference centre. Leonhard and Mary were hastily invited to move there as Wardens in 1934 to prevent being taken over by the Hitler Youth. There was space for the Quaker publishing business Leonhard had taken over. Both my parents loved working for German Quakers in the beautiful small spa town of 8,000 people, far away from the strident Nazi politics of Nürnberg.

In view of the threatening Nazi rule, my parents took out dual British-German nationality for me, since I had been born in my grandmother’s house in England. They also decided to take the office of a bursary from Street meeting, for me to attend Sidcot Friends School.

After the lovely experience of the first Germany Yearly Meeting held in the new Quakerhaus, my mother and I explored the beauties of our new home town – until September when I had to leave Pyrmont for school in England. I was now eleven years old and very proud to be allowed to make the long, but familiar, thirty-hour journey on my own.

I was met at Victoria Station by Edith Straus who packed my school trunk for Sidcot. This set a pattern of my life for the next five years. I became more English, but during the holidays in Germany I grew to understand the prospects of living in Nazi Germany.

The only friend I had of my own age was Elga, the daughter of our well-liked Jewish doctor. We went swimming and played tennis, until Jewish girls were prohibited from leisure centres.

In the summer of 1939 the threat of war felt very close. This meant the Yearly Meeting made the time the 260 Friends spent together very precious. With Mary Friedrich’s help, Elga had already left for England, and was in fact enrolled at Sidcot school with me. Her parents and grandfather were also here.

On 24 August Hitler and Stalin signed a non-aggression pact. The British government announced a mutual assistance treaty with Poland and ordered conscription. Hearing all this on the radio late at night Mary and Leonhard realised that was was now happening. It was a warm moonlit night and I was sleeping on our balcony. They woke me to explain that I had to decide whether to stay with them in Germany or return to England the next day. Such a decision would be hard to make at any age, and I was barely 16. Why did Leonhard and Mary not leave at the same time? They were both German citizens, whereas I had a British passport. They would have needed entry permits and guarantees of financial support. However, I am sure that they stayed on because they chose to remain with the Quaker group in Germany, having strong convictions that one does not run away from problems.

The decision was different for me. My friends were all in England. Having spent six years at school in England, I felt thoroughly British, although I never denied being half-German and became defensive when some people expected me to do so. I loved my family and would miss Pyrmont, but as a teenager short-term considerations seemed more important. I had been sitting my School Certificate examinations at the end of July. The results were not yet out and I felt I should return to school, in case any subjects had to be re-taken. My Sidcot scholarship had another year to run, and I was looking forward to being in the sixth form. Had I opted to stay in Germany, I would have been drawn into all the activities of my age group, such as the League of German Girls and other Nazi organisations, which would also have created problems for my parents. I was sad to realise that I would be unable to return home and felt divided by the enmity between Britain and Germany. I could not imagine that our separation would last more than a year or so.

I left next day, 25 August, on the midday train. It was very crowded and the passengers were anxious and excited. I had no problems: Edith Straus was at Victoria to meet me in response to a telegram from my parents. The British Quaker workers from Berlin, Vienna and Prague had also left for England that day, having handed over their responsibilities to German or American Quaker colleagues wherever possible.

On Sunday 3 September, the House of Commons met to hear the declaration of war that day.

Leonhard and Mary walked over the fields and hillsides above Friedenstahl to take possession of their newly-acquired garden. It had been given to them after the Sturmthal grandfather had left for England in July. They spent the day digging up potatoes, bringing them home in a little hand-cart. It felt good to be outdoors doing something practical whilst their minds and spirits were so low.

The letters Mary wrote after I had left were returned to her, rubberstamped “communication with enemy countries has ceased”. One of these letters which she kept had been to my guardian Norman Tupholme. Mary had written on 31 August:

“We have heard on the radio about the evacuation plans for Droitwich. How terrible to think of little children leaving home with gas masks slung over their shoulders. You Norman, will also be called up…we here have not heard one thing about what is happening elsewhere [there had been a news embargo in Germany 27-31 August], though we have been given ration books. I am thankful that you have undertaken the guardianship responsibilities with Edith and Julia for Brenda.”

Emigration permits arrived too late for the following four families Mary was helping:

• Meta and John Johanssen. Meta was the sister of Henry Israelsohn. Her husband was not Jewish, but was in some trouble with the authorities.
• Frau Israelsohn, another sister of Henry, who had a photographic studio.
• Dr and Mrs Anne Frankenberg, friends of the Sturmthals.
• Heinrich Meyer, father of the three children who had left earlier, and husband of Frau Meyer who left in August. 

How devastating it must have been for these four families, and for Mary who had struggled for their emigration permits, which eventually arrived a week after the war had begun. Like many others, these people had hoped they could survive in Germany unnoticed. But after Kristallnacht, they realised they would have to leave but did not know where to turn, until they found Mary. They had put their affairs in order, had bought and packed suitcases, and given away things they couldn’t take with them. Each day they had waited for the postman to deliver the permits, but when they finally arrived, the frontiers were already closed and war declared.