Free ... And the Policeman Smiled by Barry Turner

never made friends and had nothing in common with us. Later he went to Canada and was caught spying. It turned out that he had been planted on our transport.
    There was some comfort in journeying by train. It was a closed world in which the inhabitants, though unwilling companions, could take strength from knowing that they were all part of the same mad plot. Gerta Jassem shared a compartment with seven other girls and boys aged between six and thirteen, all strangers to each other.
    We ate our sandwiches, exchanged stories, told jokes. The monotonous rhythm of the train made us sleepy. I remember putting my head on my arms and leaning forward on to the folded table in front of my seat. The next girl rested on my back and this started a sort of chain reaction of bodies. We woke up whenever the train stopped, and when we were at a station we got out for a while. Then there was lots of shouting from one track to another before we started again. We had no idea where we were, though we thought we had crossed from Austria into Germany. It was next morning before one of the supervisors came to tell us that we were near the Dutch border.
    This was the moment when regrets at parting from family and friends were suppressed by the fear of being sent back.
    Two uniformed, brown-booted Germans, one wearing the SS insignia, entered our compartment. They pointed at the suitcases they wanted opened. They never uttered a word and nor did we. We simply watched and tried to look unconcerned as they searched the cases. There was a rumour that if just one of the group was discovered smuggling money or jewellery the whole transport would be sent back. Finally, they left the train and we saw them standing in groups on the platform.
    It was only when the train started moving that we began to relax. As we gathered speed, someone shouted: ‘Look, we’re in no-man’s-land!’ Somehow, the countryside did look different; less ordered, perhaps, or maybe there were just more houses. Anyway, what did it matter? We jumped about, cheered and sang. We opened the windows wide and held out our handkerchiefs, scarves, jackets to wave at the deserted fields.
    Of those who had crossed the border a few days earlier on the Berlin-Hamburg
Kindertransport
, Nina Liebermann and her sister were made more nervous of the SS guards by the adult passengers who were sharing their compartment. Everyone was so much on edge, the girls were sure they were not alone in having something to hide.
    We stopped for customs inspection on the German side. I tried to look unconcerned as the cases were searched. I was certain I would lose my earrings. Jews were not allowed to take gold or silver in any form out of the country. But they left us alone. Suddenly the train started to move, first slowly, then gathering speed for a short way before stopping again. Two men in uniform appeared in our compartment. I was sure they had come back for my earrings. But how could that be? It dawned on me that they were Dutch border guards. They went over to a conservatively-dressed passenger in a corner seat and asked him to go with them. He did not come back. We heard later that a German spy had been caught.
    Johnny Blunt was less fortunate in his encounter with German customs.
    I was very proud of my stamp collection which I kept in my rucksack. An SA man found it and put it on the seat beside me while he started searching someone else. When his back was turned I took the stamp album and sat on it. He must have realised because he turned and gave me a smack across the face. He took the stamp album and told me: ‘You can start another collection when you’re in England.’
    The tension was increased by the sight of German troops massed along the Dutch frontier.
    â€˜I remember the train standing for a long, long time at the border,’ remembers Kurt Weinburg. ‘I watched from the window as German soldiers marched up and down. They were nothing to do with us; they were