Great Ayton and the Kindertransport

Image: © Mick Garratt Taken: 15 Nov 2018

80 years ago today Jewish, Quaker and other Christian leaders met with Neville Chamberlain, the Prime Minister, to appeal to him to offer help to Jewish refugees fleeing Nazi persecution. This was just five days after Kristallnacht, the Night of the Broken Glass, the anti-Jewish riots in Germany, Austria and Czechoslovakia when synagogues, shops and property were totally vandalised. The government agreed to allow all children under the age of 17 entry into Britain. No limit. Special trains were arranged, the first of which left on 1st December, 1938 and the last eight months later, just two days before war was declared. In all, a total of almost 10,000 Jewish children made the journey. It became known as the Kindertransport. So, what is the connection between the Kindertransport and a sleepy North Yorkshire village you may be thinking? Well, these children were accommodated in hostels, schools and with families throughout Britain and some stayed at The Friends School, the Quaker boarding school that occupied the imposing building that overlooks the High Green. The building is now residential but in those four pre-war years, a total of 40 refugee scholars came to Great Ayton of which two-thirds arrived by Kindertransport. One of these was Marion Wolff who attended the Friends School 1942-47 (she was too young to enrol when she first arrived in Britain so stayed with a Quaker family in York): “On December 10, 1938, I (then aged eight) and almost 600 other children (seventeen years old and younger) gathered around midnight, under cover of darkness, at the main railway station in Vienna. We were told to remain as quiet and unobtrusive as possible, so as not to draw attention to ourselves. We each brought with us the maximum exit allowance of one small case of clothes, a rucksack, and some petty cash, and had number tags hung around our necks, (mine was 211), after which we were divided up into groups of fifty. I now realize that my low number indicated my early participation in what became the historic Kindertransport, which rescued about 9700 children from Germany, Austria, and Czechoslovakia. Although I do not remember anyone with whom I came into contact on that night, I know that if I ever meet a “Kind” with a number close to mine, we two would have been standing near each other on that station platform all those years ago. Only recently did I learn that this first Kindertransport was experimental. A consortium of private, mostly religious groups, did not know if they could successfully send 600 unaccompanied children across the Austrian border, through Germany, and into Holland. The moment the train departed there descended a veil of expectant silence, palpable tension and fear, especially when Nazis entered the compartments during the many stops, yelling at us to open up our luggage. They took out and threw around items at random, even dolls and teddy bears. Some of the things they took away with them; obviously to instil fear. Older children tried to be protective of the younger ones, even if they were not siblings. When we were finally allowed to cross the border into Holland, it was like entering paradise. The people were so friendly and welcoming, showering us with cookies, candies and cake, and there was hot chocolate and juice for everyone. We were being given a new lease on life. It was most unfortunate that some of the children had made arrangements with friends or family to remain in Holland, for most of them later ended up in concentration camps.” It must have taken tremendous courage to send your child off on this journey. I picture my granddaughter – the same age as Marion was. An act of absolute desperation. Ninety per cent of the children never saw their parents again. First appeared in my blog http://www.fhithich.uk/?p=20460 15 November 2018

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