An unbelievable miracle happened to me

After the war lists of survivors were published. I kept studying them, thinking that being one of six children, one other child might have survived. I wrote to the Red Cross but without any result. I couldn’t find anybody. Suffering from tuberculosis, I didn’t pursue it. One day, when I was recovering in the Grosvenor Sanatorium, Ashford, I came across a copy in Sam Dresner’s room of the Yiddish newspaper Undzer Shtime, which was published in Paris. Knowing several members of my family had settled in France before the war, I hoped some of them had survived. Sister Maria called me out in the middle of an English lesson given by Mr Englehart and showed me a telegram. You will understand my feelings at finding a sister I had last seen in Poland in 1942 and who was now in France, just as I was thinking I was quite alone in the world. It was purely by chance that a member of my family had attended the funeral of someone from my home town of Pulawy. In conversation it was mentioned that someone who originated from my home town was looking for lost relatives. My Aunt Sarah heard about it, visited my sister Idisa, who was the oldest (my big sister!), and asked if she had won the lottery. Idisa said she hadn’t. My aunt told her she had won something more precious. Now we’d found each other, we began writing letters on a daily basis. In her first letter, my sister said: ‘Today something extraordinary happened to me. I could only dream about it, never believing it would happen. My head is spinning and I am in turmoil. People envy me.’ She continued: ‘I want to see photographs of you and see how you look.’ I have some of those letters and still find it difficult to read them as they are so emotional, containing phrases like ‘my newly born little brother’ and wondering how I had ended up in England, who was looking after me, doing my washing etc, if I would be able to earn a living, if I was healthy, and if I had the right to remain in England. My sister had married six weeks before we found each other. Although she and her husband were just establishing their home, she asked if I would like to go to France. I also received letters from my Aunt Sarah, who referred to me as ‘mine tyer kinnd’. She said my mother (her sister) had left her a precious legacy. I suddenly found myself with a family who were as overjoyed to find me as I was to find them. Letters and photographs followed containing familiar names and faces, many of people who had not survived. Once I had received the necessary travel document, I was able to go to France, where I discovered more photographs of the Polish families who no longer existed. I felt guilty and not really able to talk to the other boys with me in Ashford who had lost everyone and had no photographs. As a child, I had heard that two of my mother’s uncles were living somewhere in England. I knew only their first names: Uncle Shlomo and Uncle Perez. They had settled here many years before the war. An uncle in France had visited them before the war – he hadn’t survived but his daughter had been able to give my sister the addresses. I found out that they lived in Brighton and wrote to them in Yiddish. They visited me in Ashford and invited me to visit them. On being discharged from the sanatorium, I visited them for longer periods and was asked if I would like to live with them. I was hesitant as I missed being with the boys, with whom I had so much in common. As I had been in England for only a short time, it was difficult to obtain permission to travel. As my sister was married to a Frenchman, she was able to visit me. The first time we met our reunion was happy and very tearful. The last time I had seen her she had been my big sister. Four and a half years later, we were the same height! On our journey from the airport, we recounted the happenings of those years. My sister suggested that as I was living in England and she in France, ‘Let’s imagine that our parents and four sisters are somewhere.’ Eventually I settled in Brighton and learned to be a tailor. I married 53 years ago and have three children. Now we have six grandchildren. Although we live in Hove, I always stayed in touch with the boys, attending each and every reunion together with the family and any other gatherings we can get to. My wife feels she is one of the boys. Sadly, my sister died young but she left two lovely daughters, who have become very close to us and consider us surrogate parents. We have grand-nieces and nephews and seven great-grand-nieces and nephews in France and we are always included in their celebrations. It was well worth surviving! Alfred Huberman