Free Cruel World by Lynn H. Nicholas

Acknowledgments
    The events of World War II are among my earliest memories, as is the gray atmosphere of postwar Holland, where I lived in the late 1940s. When I was there I did not wonder much about the treeless parks, the odd assortment of nationalities in my school class, the origins of our German housekeeper (undoubtedly a “DP” of some sort), or the fact that ladies of distinguished lineage could be seen filling their large handbags with food at our cocktail parties. As part of the U.S. embassy, we too had to use little blue ration coupons to buy things on the economy, but we could get scarce items such as coffee from the American military depots in Bremerhaven, one of the most heavily bombed cities in Germany, where we occasionally went to pick up supplies. The condition of that place and of the people living among its ruins is a vision I have never forgotten. As life has gone on, I have become more curious about what I saw then and have been struck by the continuing damage done to families by rigid ideologues and by war. It is my aim to give a picture of the overall plans of the Nazis and to show how policies such as theirs simultaneously affect many different communities, which are linked in unexpected ways. The vastness of their operations makes it impossible to describe the fate of every country and group caught in the Nazi web; each story must, therefore, serve as an example of actions that went on in many places.
    I am particularly indebted to my mentors in a number of countries, who interrupted their lives to arrange interviews, interpret, find documents and photographs, and otherwise help me. Without them, this book would not have been possible. Here at home, the greatest thanks must go to the late Richard Winslow, who, among many other things, ran one of the first UNRRA teams to go to Germany in 1945, and who spent many hours describing his wartime experiences. To this oral history he added his invaluable archive of documents and correspondence, including the battered briefcase he had used in those dark days. In Greece, Tony Lykiardopoulos opened doors all across that country’s complex political spectrum. Christine and Zeno Koenigs took especially good care of us in Holland, while Julia and Christopher Tugendhat did the same in London. In Moscow, thanks to Ekaterina Genieva, director of the All-Russia StateLibrary for Foreign Literature, I had the privilege of working with Lena Tchnesnokova, who not only acted as guide and interpreter, but taught me much about life in the former USSR and led me to interviewees I would not otherwise have found. There, also, Dr. Patricia Kennedy Grimsted was an invaluable adviser. These are only a few of those who helped. I have listed many others in the Bibliography; for any I may have omitted, my apologies: they are all appreciated.
    Particular thanks are due to the late Sybil Milton for her encouragement and for sharing her encyclopedic knowledge; to the staffs of the United Nations Archive; the National Archives; the Manuscript Division of the Library of Congress; the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, whose photo archivist, Maren Read, is a miracle worker; and the Georgetown University Library. In Europe, archivists at the Imperial War Museum, London; the Benaki Museum in Athens, the Nederlands Instituut voor Oorlogsdocumentatie, Amsterdam; and Memorial, in Moscow, provided invaluable documentation. Paper is not all: the organizers of the sixtieth-anniversary reunion of the Kindertransport children kindly allowed me to attend their meeting, which made history come alive. At Knopf, I am once again tremendously grateful to my editor, Susan Ralston, as well as to designer Anthea Lingeman, Ken Schneider, and especially Ellen Feldman.
    More than anything, I owe thanks to all our friends and extended family who have supported us so wonderfully in the last years, which have brought us terrible sadness but also the tremendous joy of a new generation. My gratitude to them,