Surviving Austrian Anti-Semitism and a Nazi Raid
Suddenly, like a steam-belching locomotive out of the mouth of a tunnel, a large truck blasted out of a side street nearby, an open-bed vehicle loaded with men clad in brown shirts, jodhpurs, boots, screaming unintelligible slogans, and waving large red flags with black swastikas on a white circle. It roared by us, so close that I could see the contorted faces belching guttural screams, and hear the crack of the flags as they whipped in the slip stream.
And then they turned another corner, and were gone, and it was still again.
My parents came out of their trance, practically threw me into the car, and sped home. Not a word was said, my father's face had turned to stone, my mother stared straight ahead. I was petrified.
Two days later, the Germans "invaded" - translate to "were welcomed by the delirious masses" - Austria. The next day, my father's automobile was confiscated. A few short days later, the textile mills were "bought" by the Nazis, and my mother's medical/dental practice was taken over by her "loyal" assistant. I, along with Jewish kids from all over the city, was transferred into a separate, segregated "Jew School." It happened fast, almost as if it had been pre-choreographed. Which in fact it had.
And then, some time later, rumors of "the raids" surfaced. It seemed that, in addition to humiliating Jews by destroying their livelihoods, making them clean city streets on hands and knees, beating them up in broad daylight, or arresting them willy nilly, armed Germans were combing apartment houses in an organized manner.
Many Jews, sometimes entire families, were said to be arrested, and carted off to who knew where.It seemed as if the raiders knew exactly where to look, down to the house or apartment number. But these sweeps were only rumors to us, of which there were hundreds, and besides, we had more immediate problems to solve.
So it is that we sit this late evening, a few months into the "Anschluss," grouped around the massive dining table in our apartment. The radio spews martial music, attractive tunes with uplifting lyrics like: "Wenn das Judenblut vom Messer spritzt" (When the Blood of Jews drips from Knives), other inspiring Nazi propaganda, and occasionally, highly censored and distorted news programs. It seemed as if we are, masochistically, setting the mood for our desperation of being practically destitute, and having just learned that the immigration quota into "Amerika" is filled for the next three years. Which is problematic at best, since as of now, we have no American sponsor to vouch for us in the first place.
And then we hear the squeal of tires and the screech of brakes!
My father explodes from his chair, hits all the light switches, the apartment is pitch dark, and we rush to the windows that look down on the wide, cobble stoned street three stories below us.
The unthinkable has happened! It is a raid! Suddenly, like a steam-belching locomotive out of the mouth of a tunnel, a large truck blasted out of a side street nearby, an open-bed vehicle loaded with men clad in brown shirts, jodhpurs, boots, screaming unintelligible slogans, and waving large red flags with black swastikas on a white circle. It roared by us, so close that I could see the contorted faces belching guttural screams, and hear the crack of the flags as they whipped in the slip stream. And then they turned another corner, and were gone, and it was still again.
My parents came out of their trance, practically threw me into the car, and sped home. Not a word was said, my father's face had turned to stone, my mother stared straight ahead. I was petrified.
Two days later, the Germans "invaded" - translate to "were welcomed by the delirious masses" - Austria. The next day, my father's automobile was confiscated. A few short days later, the textile mills were "bought" by the Nazis, and my mother's medical/dental practice was taken over by her "loyal" assistant. I, along with Jewish kids from all over the city, was transferred into a separate, segregated "Jew School." It happened fast, almost as if it had been pre-choreographed. Which in fact it had.
And then, some time later, rumors of "the raids" surfaced. It seemed that, in addition to humiliating Jews by destroying their livelihoods, making them clean city streets on hands and knees, beating them up in broad daylight, or arresting them willy nilly, armed Germans were combing apartment houses in an organized manner. Many Jews, sometimes entire families, were said to be arrested, and carted off to who knew where.It seemed as if the raiders knew exactly where to look, down to the house or apartment number. But these sweeps were only rumors to us, of which there were hundreds, and besides, we had more immediate problems to solve.
So it is that we sit this late evening, a few months into the "Anschluss," grouped around the massive dining table in our apartment. The radio spews martial music, attractive tunes with uplifting lyrics like: "Wenn das Judenblut vom Messer spritzt" (When the Blood of Jews drips from Knives), other inspiring Nazi propaganda, and occasionally, highly censored and distorted news programs. It seemed as if we are, masochistically, setting the mood for our desperation of being practically destitute, and having just learned that the immigration quota into "Amerika" is filled for the next three years. Which is problematic at best, since as of now, we have no American sponsor to vouch for us in the first place.
And then we hear the squeal of tires and the screech of brakes!
My father explodes from his chair, hits all the light switches, the apartment is pitch dark, and we rush to the windows that look down on the wide, cobble stoned street three stories below us.
The unthinkable has happened! It is a raid!
And then they turned another corner, and were gone, and it was still again.
My parents came out of their trance, practically threw me into the car, and sped home. Not a word was said, my father's face had turned to stone, my mother stared straight ahead. I was petrified.
Two days later, the Germans "invaded" - translate to "were welcomed by the delirious masses" - Austria. The next day, my father's automobile was confiscated. A few short days later, the textile mills were "bought" by the Nazis, and my mother's medical/dental practice was taken over by her "loyal" assistant. I, along with Jewish kids from all over the city, was transferred into a separate, segregated "Jew School." It happened fast, almost as if it had been pre-choreographed. Which in fact it had.
And then, some time later, rumors of "the raids" surfaced. It seemed that, in addition to humiliating Jews by destroying their livelihoods, making them clean city streets on hands and knees, beating them up in broad daylight, or arresting them willy nilly, armed Germans were combing apartment houses in an organized manner.
Many Jews, sometimes entire families, were said to be arrested, and carted off to who knew where.It seemed as if the raiders knew exactly where to look, down to the house or apartment number. But these sweeps were only rumors to us, of which there were hundreds, and besides, we had more immediate problems to solve.
So it is that we sit this late evening, a few months into the "Anschluss," grouped around the massive dining table in our apartment. The radio spews martial music, attractive tunes with uplifting lyrics like: "Wenn das Judenblut vom Messer spritzt" (When the Blood of Jews drips from Knives), other inspiring Nazi propaganda, and occasionally, highly censored and distorted news programs. It seemed as if we are, masochistically, setting the mood for our desperation of being practically destitute, and having just learned that the immigration quota into "Amerika" is filled for the next three years. Which is problematic at best, since as of now, we have no American sponsor to vouch for us in the first place.
And then we hear the squeal of tires and the screech of brakes!
My father explodes from his chair, hits all the light switches, the apartment is pitch dark, and we rush to the windows that look down on the wide, cobble stoned street three stories below us.
The unthinkable has happened! It is a raid! Suddenly, like a steam-belching locomotive out of the mouth of a tunnel, a large truck blasted out of a side street nearby, an open-bed vehicle loaded with men clad in brown shirts, jodhpurs, boots, screaming unintelligible slogans, and waving large red flags with black swastikas on a white circle. It roared by us, so close that I could see the contorted faces belching guttural screams, and hear the crack of the flags as they whipped in the slip stream. And then they turned another corner, and were gone, and it was still again.
My parents came out of their trance, practically threw me into the car, and sped home. Not a word was said, my father's face had turned to stone, my mother stared straight ahead. I was petrified.
Two days later, the Germans "invaded" - translate to "were welcomed by the delirious masses" - Austria. The next day, my father's automobile was confiscated. A few short days later, the textile mills were "bought" by the Nazis, and my mother's medical/dental practice was taken over by her "loyal" assistant. I, along with Jewish kids from all over the city, was transferred into a separate, segregated "Jew School." It happened fast, almost as if it had been pre-choreographed. Which in fact it had.
And then, some time later, rumors of "the raids" surfaced. It seemed that, in addition to humiliating Jews by destroying their livelihoods, making them clean city streets on hands and knees, beating them up in broad daylight, or arresting them willy nilly, armed Germans were combing apartment houses in an organized manner. Many Jews, sometimes entire families, were said to be arrested, and carted off to who knew where.It seemed as if the raiders knew exactly where to look, down to the house or apartment number. But these sweeps were only rumors to us, of which there were hundreds, and besides, we had more immediate problems to solve.
So it is that we sit this late evening, a few months into the "Anschluss," grouped around the massive dining table in our apartment. The radio spews martial music, attractive tunes with uplifting lyrics like: "Wenn das Judenblut vom Messer spritzt" (When the Blood of Jews drips from Knives), other inspiring Nazi propaganda, and occasionally, highly censored and distorted news programs. It seemed as if we are, masochistically, setting the mood for our desperation of being practically destitute, and having just learned that the immigration quota into "Amerika" is filled for the next three years. Which is problematic at best, since as of now, we have no American sponsor to vouch for us in the first place.
And then we hear the squeal of tires and the screech of brakes!
My father explodes from his chair, hits all the light switches, the apartment is pitch dark, and we rush to the windows that look down on the wide, cobble stoned street three stories below us.
The unthinkable has happened! It is a raid!
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