futures. Shortly afterwards Franz and his father went through for processing and left the camp.
A few days later we heard the dreadful news about the Arandora Star being torpedoed and sunk by a German U-boat off the coast of Ireland on its way to Canada; there had been only 444 survivors out of a total of more than 1200 German and Italian internees. Following this horrific loss of life, the survivors from the Arandora Star arrived at Huyton camp a few days later. The evening they arrived, a moving and dignified service was organised in memory of the unfortunate men who had drowned. Everyone attended to pay their respects to their compatriots and the highly charged emotional atmosphere was too much for some men who sobbed openly, no doubt thinking that the same fate might be awaiting themselves in the next few days. None of us had a lot of confidence for the safety of our own journey overseas. Some people started to panic and those few who had volunteered now had reservations but were unable to reverse their decision even if they’d wanted to. As for myself, I hadn’t volunteered for deportation, but found my name included on a compulsory list and, although apprehensive, resolved not to dwell on the matter, as there was nothing I could do to change my fate. Little did we realise that only seven days after the sinking of the Arandora Star and with extreme lack of sensitivity, the authorities would re-embark the survivors onto HMT Dunera from the same wharf from which the Arandora Star had sailed.
To take our minds off these worrying events a variety show was put on which temporarily gave us something to smile about, and I found it very entertaining. It was held in a large marquee where real artists took part, such as Landauer of ‘Ravitz and Landauer’ fame, a duo ensemble who played light music on two pianos and who had apparently often appeared on the BBC (English broad-casting network); I heard that they were sponsored by the Duke of Windsor to come to England after he had heard them both play in Vienna. Unfortunately Ravitz was in a different camp so Landauer played solo.
On 8 July we heard we were to leave camp two days later, on Wednesday. I was keen for any action to break the monotony of the camp, but apprehensive, having no idea whether I would reach my destination, never mind where it would be; Canada I thought. As if sensing the inner turmoil felt by many, that same evening Mr Stadlen, a talented and renowned Austrian pianist, gave a soothing piano recital which provided welcome respite from our fears; he played ‘both ancient and modern music ranging from Mozart to Bartok’ (I read this on the program pinned up on the announcement board on the way into the marquee).
We left Huyton on 10 July. It was raining hard and it was announced that we would de-camp after lunch. We were taken out onto the parade ground and lined up into groups of fifty. We departed at 1 p.m. marching in step through the busy village to the train station. I carefully took in the distinguishing features of my surroundings thinking I might not see England again – the high street characterised by three pubs and a market square, the local school and sports ground. The townspeople had taken time out from their daily business to stop and stare, only the children didn’t look at us suspiciously and some of them smiled and waved. In so short a time things had changed from friendly acceptance to barely disguised hostility. Hopefully we would find a better reception where we were heading.
We reached the terminal and boarded the train that was waiting there for us. It pulled out of the little station at 2.30 p.m. and took us the relatively short distance to Liverpool Riverside station. We were then marched to the landing stage at Princess Dock where the troop liner HMT Dunera awaited us, ominously lurking under a heavily laden sky. We gave up our gas masks, as presumably we wouldn’t need them where we were going, although I still had no idea of our destination; then at 4 p.m. we were ordered on board.
My parents were hoping to receive their US visas in the next six weeks and to soon be on their own journey; hopefully I would easily be able to make arrangements to join them there. The general view was that we were going to Canada. Once there, if all went according to plan, I didn’t think there would be too much difficulty in finding my way to meet my parents in New York. Apart from my concerns about the safety of the voyage I had every reason to expect reasonable treatment from the British soldiers in charge of us aboard HMT Dunera; after all, Britain had given me refuge from the same oppression she feared for herself. I was to be entirely mistaken in this assumption. My optimistic, but perhaps naïve, faith in the British military and Government was dashed even before I stepped aboard.
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