including those who took their chances by outrunning the border guards. The downside was the fear that even the most dedicated social workers were liable to be overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of their task. There were reports of unaccompanied children of all ages massing at the border crossings. Just how many were waiting to come over was a matter of wild speculation, but in London 5000 was accepted as a not unrealistic estimate. Bentwich was not alone in believing that the first
Kindertransport
would consist of children lately arrived in the Netherlands but with nowhere to live.
In fact, the position was not as desperate as rumour suggested. Bentwich was told that over the previous month 600 child refugees had been admitted and, though another 800 were expected by the end of the year, there was hostel accommodation ready for all of these and more. Although the Dutch government had yet to pronounce on the limit of its hospitality, the refugee organisations assumed that at least 2000 could be accommodated without difficulty and up to 5000 with difficulty. For the moment, the only children the Dutch were keen to pass on were those who were either stateless or not of German nationality â about a dozen in all.
Bentwich returned to London with a promise of cooperation from his Dutch colleagues, the backing of Prime Minister Colijn for his country to act as a transit agency, and a polite request to the Foreign Office to give formal notification to the Dutch government of plans to help child refugees. So far, all they knew of the British initiative was what they had heard from Bentwich or read in reports circulated by the CBF. It was almost as if the Foreign Office was trying to distance itself from government policy.
Having decided on the main route for the
Kindertransport
â by train to the Hook of Holland and boat to Harwich â the nextpriority was to choose the passengers. Bentwich brought back with him from the Netherlands a list of urgent cases, including orphanages in Hamburg and Breslau which were threatened with closure, but their appeals would go unanswered until there was direct talk with the German authorities and with the Jewish organisations in Berlin and Vienna. The delegate chosen to negotiate the ground rules was Dennis Cohen, who divided his life between publishing and the Jewish Refugees Committee. He and his wife left for Berlin on 28 November.
They found that the capital retained a vestige of its once proud reputation for enlightenment. Jews still had some freedom of movement and the emigration section of the
Reichsvertretung
was able to make effective representation on behalf of Jews who wanted to leave the country. The same could be said of the
Paulusbund
, which spoke for Christians of Jewish extraction. It was expected that the Nazi authorities would approve of the
Kindertransporte
as long as the travel arrangements could be handled discreetly and at no cost to the state. There would be problems â lost documents, petty objections to this or that name on a list, last minute delays and cancellations â but the politics of hate were manageable; just about.
Inevitably, selection for the first
Kindertransport
was haphazard, often depending on knowing the right people or being in the right place at the right time. Half the 200 or so children were from a Berlin orphanage destroyed on
Kristallnacht
. Another forty were children of Polish descent who were threatened with deportation. The rest were mainly youngsters whose parents were in concentration camps or who were themselves liable to arrest and internment. All were urgent cases, but urgent cases were two a penny. Priority went to those in the know and in luck.
Within three days of Dennis Cohen arriving in Berlin, refugee children were gathering at the main station. The hours before departure were for deciding on the practicalities of travelling lightly â what to wear and what clothing to pack, what childhood treasures to take
Kindertransport
would consist of children lately arrived in the Netherlands but with nowhere to live.
In fact, the position was not as desperate as rumour suggested. Bentwich was told that over the previous month 600 child refugees had been admitted and, though another 800 were expected by the end of the year, there was hostel accommodation ready for all of these and more. Although the Dutch government had yet to pronounce on the limit of its hospitality, the refugee organisations assumed that at least 2000 could be accommodated without difficulty and up to 5000 with difficulty. For the moment, the only children the Dutch were keen to pass on were those who were either stateless or not of German nationality â about a dozen in all.
Bentwich returned to London with a promise of cooperation from his Dutch colleagues, the backing of Prime Minister Colijn for his country to act as a transit agency, and a polite request to the Foreign Office to give formal notification to the Dutch government of plans to help child refugees. So far, all they knew of the British initiative was what they had heard from Bentwich or read in reports circulated by the CBF. It was almost as if the Foreign Office was trying to distance itself from government policy.
Having decided on the main route for the
Kindertransport
â by train to the Hook of Holland and boat to Harwich â the nextpriority was to choose the passengers. Bentwich brought back with him from the Netherlands a list of urgent cases, including orphanages in Hamburg and Breslau which were threatened with closure, but their appeals would go unanswered until there was direct talk with the German authorities and with the Jewish organisations in Berlin and Vienna. The delegate chosen to negotiate the ground rules was Dennis Cohen, who divided his life between publishing and the Jewish Refugees Committee. He and his wife left for Berlin on 28 November.
They found that the capital retained a vestige of its once proud reputation for enlightenment. Jews still had some freedom of movement and the emigration section of the
Reichsvertretung
was able to make effective representation on behalf of Jews who wanted to leave the country. The same could be said of the
Paulusbund
, which spoke for Christians of Jewish extraction. It was expected that the Nazi authorities would approve of the
Kindertransporte
as long as the travel arrangements could be handled discreetly and at no cost to the state. There would be problems â lost documents, petty objections to this or that name on a list, last minute delays and cancellations â but the politics of hate were manageable; just about.
Inevitably, selection for the first
Kindertransport
was haphazard, often depending on knowing the right people or being in the right place at the right time. Half the 200 or so children were from a Berlin orphanage destroyed on
Kristallnacht
. Another forty were children of Polish descent who were threatened with deportation. The rest were mainly youngsters whose parents were in concentration camps or who were themselves liable to arrest and internment. All were urgent cases, but urgent cases were two a penny. Priority went to those in the know and in luck.
Within three days of Dennis Cohen arriving in Berlin, refugee children were gathering at the main station. The hours before departure were for deciding on the practicalities of travelling lightly â what to wear and what clothing to pack, what childhood treasures to take
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