In 1939, as the Nazis closed in on Czechoslovakia, hundreds of Jewish children were transported to safety in Britain. Edward Abel Smith tells the story of a young British man at the heart of these rescue efforts <\/p>
In the early hours of Saturday 1 July 1939, 10-year-old V\u011bra Diamantov\u00e1 was jerked suddenly awake. Her train had lurched roughly across a railway junction on its way out of Czechoslovakia (today divided between the Czech Republic and Slovakia). As Vera\u2019s eyes adjusted to the pitch-dark carriage, she could just make out some of the other 240 children, mostly Jewish and aged 3\u201315, crammed in around her. Sitting next to Vera was six-year-old Alfred, who recalled years later that, when leaving the Czech capital of Prague, \u201cI was aware of my mother\u2019s nervousness, but I did not understand the reason why\u2026 for me it was a holiday trip and a tremendous adventure.\u201d<\/p>\n
The children aboard that train came from widely different backgrounds and had very little in common \u2013 except that almost none of them would ever see their parents again. They were among 669 children who, between 14 March and 2 August 1939, left behind their families in Czechoslovakia and were evacuated to England thanks to a small group of individuals headed by Nicholas Winton.<\/p>\n
Born in 1909 to German Jewish parents, Winton grew up in north London, where his family suffered ostracism because of their Jewish heritage. They lived there in an enormous 20-roomed house that was managed by four members of staff including a cook and a nanny. \u201cWe weren\u2019t, by any means, rich\u2026 our class was, I suppose, moderately middle class,\u201d Winton later reflected.<\/p>\n
At the age of 14, Winton was sent to the newly opened Stowe School in Buckinghamshire, where the eccentric headmaster taught his students the skills necessary to be \u201cacceptable at a dance and invaluable in a shipwreck\u201d. While there, Winton enjoyed an eclectic range of hobbies including rugby, horse riding, fencing and pigeon-fancying. Although his academic results were mixed, he left Stowe with a set of strong beliefs and an impressive work ethic.<\/p>\n
Winton\u2019s father \u2013 whose glass-importing business was slowly failing \u2013 encouraged his son to go straight into work in order to help support the family financially. \u201cFather was very keen that I should become a banker,\u201d Winton recalled, somewhat resentfully. Although he never really enjoyed banking, the job enabled him to live in Germany for a year in 1929, where he witnessed first hand the dire impact of the economic depression on the country.<\/p>\n
Winton\u2019s life changed forever when his close friend Martin Blake cancelled a skiing holiday arranged to celebrate new year 1938\u201339. The day before their flight, Blake called Winton to say: \u201cI\u2019m going out to Prague tomorrow\u2026 Give up your winter sports holidays and come and join me.\u201d Intrigued, Winton swapped his ski outfit for a thick woollen suit, and changed his plane ticket to book the next available seat to Czechoslovakia.<\/p>\n
Nothing could have prepared him for what he experienced when he arrived in Prague on 31 December 1938. In a bid to appease Adolf Hitler<\/a>, earlier that year western powers had agreed to allow Germany to take control of the part of Czechoslovakia called the Sudetenland. This thin slither of territory bordering Germany had been incorporated into Czechoslovakia after the First World War, when Austria-Hungary was dismembered. The advent of Nazi rule in