Hey, everyone. Welcome to the show. Great to
be here. Imagine your entire world, everything
you know, everything you love, just systematically
torn away simply because of who you are. It's
almost impossible to truly grasp, isn't it? It
is. And that raw, visceral experience of loss
and, well, the desperate fight to survive, to
reunite with loved ones, that's really at the
heart of our deep dive today. We're exploring
a true story. It's deeply rooted in historical
events, specifically the devastating impact of
the Holocaust on one Jewish family. Exactly.
So if you're compelled by stories of resilience,
you know, against unimaginable odds in the enduring
power of family bonds, then please do hit that
like button. And subscribe. We do more in -depth
explorations like this regularly. Today, we're
immersing ourselves and I will come back for
you by Daniel Hunn and Rachel Stanion. You'll
find the Amazon link for it down in the description.
And this book, it's really something else. It's
far more than just, you know, a list of historical
facts. It's a deeply personal, very moving narrative.
Yeah. Resilience, the agony of separation, those
unbreakable family ties. Exactly. And it all
comes through this extraordinary collection of
letters and personal documents. It's like having
a direct line. To their intimate thoughts, their
experiences, people who actually live. through
it. Yeah, it gives you such a powerful, intimate
perspective on the, well, the personal devastation
of a world at war. Okay, so let's unpack this.
Our mission for this deep dive is to trace the
incredible journey of Manfred Ganz. He was a
young Jewish man from Borken. In Germany. And
we're using his own words primarily. His letters,
diary entries, other personal papers. Right.
To understand his life first as a refugee in
England, then his courageous service in the British
Army's secret three troop. A unit mostly made
up of Jewish refugees like himself. And then
his desperate search for his parents after the
war. And finally, that incredibly moving reunion
after their imprisonment in Theresienstadt. And
central to all this, as you mentioned, is this
amazing collection of letters. Over a thousand
of them exchanged between Manfred and Anita Lamb.
Over more than a decade. It forms this really
personal thread through the whole story. What's
so compelling about using these sources, I think,
is the immediacy. You're not just reading analysis.
No, you're getting firsthand accounts from a
young man navigating, well, things we can barely
imagine. It really offers an intimate window,
doesn't it? It does. So, let's take it back.
Back to the beginning. In Borken, Germany, we
meet the Gans family. There's Moritz and Elsie,
the parents, and their sons, Carl, Manfred, and
Theo. And by all accounts, they had a pretty
comfortable life there. Middle class. Moritz,
the father, was quite involved locally. Vice
chairman of the Jewish community, wasn't he?
That's right. And education was clearly a big
priority in their household. The boys had Hebrew
lessons. They went to a local Catholic high school.
And then later, a more Zionist focused education,
too. It paints a picture of a family really rooted,
you know, in their German Jewish identity, their
community. Absolutely. Which, of course, makes
what happens next, the displacement, the loss,
even more poignant. It just underscores the brutal
impact. of the Nazi regime on established lives.
Yeah. These weren't people on the fringes. They
were part of the fabric of the town. Precisely.
The emphasis on education, community involvement,
it shows how embedded they were. Interestingly,
the eldest son, Karl, he'd already left for Palestine
back in 1936. Right. And that move was a significant
break for him. He rejected his Orthodox faith,
even his German name, became Gershon Kadar in
Tel Aviv. That early emigration and Carl sort
of consciously shedding his German identity,
his religious background, it does foreshadow
the forced displacements and identity shifts
the rest of the family would face. It shows the
pressures were already building, even in the
mid -30s. Exactly. Carl's choices reflect that
growing awareness within the Jewish community,
the need for a safe haven, and the different
paths people were starting to take. So despite
these, you know, tightening restrictions in Germany,
young Manfred seems to have been trying to hold
on to some normalcy. You get glimpses of it.
Bicycle trips, the cinema. Reading banned books,
even. Yeah. And political debates with other
Jewish youth. And it's around this time that
Anita Lamb comes into the picture. Her family
was in Berlin. And they connected how? Summer
holidays. Yes. At Landwork Neuendorf. It was
basically an agricultural training camp, a hakshara,
run by the Zionist movement, preparing young
people for potential emigration to Palestine.
So, again, that active preparation for leaving
was already happening. Definitely. Land work
Neuendorf was crucial. It gave practical skills,
sure, but also a sense of community, shared purpose
for young Jews facing such an uncertain future.
It was a place to sort of envision and prepare
for a different life. And it seems like Manfred
and Anita's bond started forming there. OK, fast
forward a bit. July 1938, the Lamb family emigrates
to the USA. And shortly after they leave, Manfred
writes his first letter to Anita. And even then
you see his personality, right? That quote. Oh,
yeah. It's quite striking. He tells her, take
in as much as you can yourself. This way you
mostly see things as they are. Otherwise, you're
just looking through other people's eyes. Such
independent thinking for a teenager. encouraging
critical observation. It really is remarkably
insightful for someone so young. Speaks to a
level of maturity, intellectual curiosity. Probably
helped him navigate what was coming. He wasn't
just going to accept things at face value. No,
clearly not. And then, just days after Anita's
family left, Manfred himself is off to England.
Ostensibly to learn English for a boarding school
near Berlin. Right, the official reason. But
the underlying reality, the much more pressing
reason, was seeking safety. Absolutely. He stayed
with the Jacobs family in London, Golders Green,
learning English, exploring the city. London
must have felt incredibly different compared
to the atmosphere in Germany by then. A sense
of freedom, perhaps. For sure. A vital, if temporary,
respite from the escalating persecution. A place
where, maybe for a moment, just being Jewish
didn't immediately mark you as a target. Some
semblance of normalcy. But his parents, back
in Borken, they started getting worried about
him returning. Understandably. The situation
was deteriorating rapidly. They urged him to
stay in England. Which left Manfred feeling pretty
uncertain, I imagine. Yeah. He sought advice
from Salomon Adler Rudel, who was a key figure
in refugee aid. And the advice was? Take the
matriculation exams, the UK university entrance
exams, and then aim for Palestine. And Manfred
was committed to that? There's that determined
letter to Anita? Yes. Whether in war or peace,
my place is only there in Palestine, and that
is true now more than ever. It really shows that
strong Zionist feeling among many young Jews
then. Palestine is the ultimate refuge, the homeland.
That conviction must have provided some focus,
some purpose in all that uncertainty. I think
it did. That yearning for self -determination,
a secure future, it fueled the movement. So the
late 30s, things were getting harder and harder
for Jewish refugees everywhere in Europe. The
story of the MS St. Louis comes to mind. A terrible
example, yes. Denied entry everywhere. And even
in England, Manfred was hesitant. Didn't want
to join the air raid precautions because of his
passport situation. He was in limbo. Exactly.
Caught between the dangers they'd fled and this
uncertain welcome. Meanwhile, back in Germany,
post Kristallnacht. The Nazi grip tightened dramatically.
Brutal new restrictions, more violence. It underscores
the desperation, the shrinking options, the bureaucratic
walls refugees faced. But then some potentially
good news for the family. Manfred's younger brother,
Theo. Ah yes, Theo managed to get out. In August
1939, just before the invasion of Poland, he
came via the Netherlands with their cousin Richa.
And Manfred met them. Yes, Manfred met them in
England. A small measure of family safety, at
least. But even then, Manfred's diary, it shows
such mixed feelings. That entry is so poignant.
I'm so free here at only 16 years old. No one
cares what I do or don't do. Life here without
friends makes you as hard as nails. That paradox,
right? Freedom, but intense loneliness. It captures
the refugee experience so powerfully. That relief
alongside profound isolation, the emotional burden
of being uprooted. And then, incredibly, his
parents. Morris and Els. Incredibly narrow escape.
They managed to get out of Borken also in August
1939. Reached the Netherlands just as war was
breaking out. They actually heard the news of
the war starting on the radio there. Yes. Their
last minute escape just highlights how fast that
window was closing for Jews trying to flee Germany.
So close to being trapped. Right. Which brings
us into the war years themselves, 1940 to 45.
And Manfred's life takes another, well, unexpected
turn. Totally unexpected. After France falls
in May 1940, he's interned on the Isle of Man.
As an enemy alien. Can you imagine? Fleeing the
Nazis only to be locked up by the British as
an enemy alien. It's a stark reminder of the
fear and suspicion during wartime. Illogical,
unjust policies. Though surprisingly, there seems
to have been some intellectual life in the camp.
Yes. Lectures, studying the Torah. Manfred took
part. It speaks to that human need for meaning,
connection, even in confinement. But his diary
also hints at darker things. A suicide mentioned,
admission to PC, whatever that meant. The stress
must have been immense. Undeniably. After internment,
he tried to join the RAF as a pilot. That didn't
work out. No, rejected. He ended up in the Pioneer
Corps, noncombatant unit. He found it very restrictive,
unfulfilling. But then, late 1942, another dramatic
shift. Recruitment into three troops. The inter
-allied commando. This highly secret unit, mostly
German and Austrian Jewish refugees. Whose language
skills, their understanding of the enemy were
invaluable for intelligence, special ops. And
the secrecy was absolute. Because if they were
captured. Certain execution under Hitler's commando
befell. The order to kill all allied commandos.
They had to completely abandon their old identities.
There's that story from training in Aberdovey
about the uninvited guest. illustrates just how
serious it was. Life or death. And Manfred, later
on, apparently really disliked fictional portrayals
like inglorious bastards. Yes, he felt they misrepresented
why they were really there. It wasn't about revenge,
he felt. It was about intelligence, combat, ending
the war. Their training must have been intense.
Aberdovey. Rigorous physical combat skills for
these dangerous missions. Extremely demanding,
yes. And through all this, Manfred and Anita
kept writing. Though Anita used a different name
at first. Joe. Yes. And a friend's address. Yeah.
She was worried her mother wouldn't approve of
the connection. But Manfred found out eventually.
He did. And his reply is quite lovely. Very reassuring.
I hope you are not too disappointed that Joe
and Anita are the same person. Shows the strength
of their bond. That correspondence was clearly
a lifeline for both of them. Emotional support,
connection, across all that chaos and distance.
Absolutely vital. But while Manfred was training
and preparing, 1943 brought terrible news for
his parents. They wrote that poignant letter
longing for their sons on their birthdays. And
then, that same year, forced relocation from
Zandvoort, trying to hide in Marsum. Betrayal.
Betrayed by people they sought refuge with. Yes.
And then deportation. First to Westerbork, then
Theresienstadt in June 43. Just devastating.
Their journey into the Nazi camp system. Such
a brutal contrast to that hopeful letter. It
really underscores the relentless, systematic
persecution. And the betrayal highlights the
pervasive dangers, even from potential saviors.
Meanwhile, Manfred is in the thick of the fighting.
D -Day landings. With no 41 Royal Marine Commando.
And during the capture of that German radar station
near Duvla Delivrande. He used his German, didn't
he? To command the surrender. He did. It's a
powerful symbol, isn't it? Using his former mother
tongue against the enemy. The personal stakes
for these refugee soldiers. Yeah. And his direct
contribution to a strategic objective. Incredible
courage. And always facing that threat from the
commander Bofell. Always. Later, he served as
an interrogator. Yeah. German prisoners. And
one encounter really affected him. A young Nazi.
Yes, a young fanatical one. He wrote to Anita
about it. Seeing the boy's picture of home, his
girlfriend, I couldn't help reflecting on the
tragedy of it all, and I felt very depressed
for some time afterwards. Shows the psychological
impact, even fighting the perpetrators, that
underlying empathy. It does. And he was grappling
with faith, too, around this time. Question religion
in the face of all that. Fighting does, of course,
make a man more religious. But that's exactly
what makes me doubt the truth of religion. It
too much looks like a product of fear. A timeless
struggle. Yeah. So while Manfred's fighting in
Europe, Anita's in New York, studying, keeping
that connection alive through letters. Expressing
hope the war would end in 44. Manfred goes on
to the invasion of Walshuren in the Netherlands,
gets injured there. But continues working as
an interpreter. These commandos had such diverse,
dangerous roles. Frontline combat, essential
support. And constant reminders of the human
cost, that story in Brussels. Ah, the Jewish
cafe, having to tell them his comrade Robert
Hamilton had been killed. Stark personal losses.
And there's an interesting contrast in their
letters around this time, too, about European
Jews wanting to return to Germany. Manfred mentions
hearing this, but Anita feels very strongly they
deserve a safe new home. Her quote is powerful.
I assure you that I feel very, very strongly
for these people. They are one of us and that
link cannot be broken. That solidarity, that
desire for real security after the trauma. It's
so clear. You understand why returning felt impossible
for many. Towards the end of 44, Manfred gets
a bit of a respite. In Millburg. Yes, working
on rebuilding dykes in the Netherlands. Essential
work. But still dangerous. That dark humor among
the comrades. Toasting during shelling. Well,
here's to us. Grim humor is a coping mechanism,
I suppose. Then early 45, back to England to
train recruits. But his mind is on his parents.
Increasingly so. He finally gets permission to
visit Borken, his hometown. His devastated hometown.
He arrives on Pesach, Passover, in March 45.
The timing. Passover, the festival of liberation.
And he sees this utter devastation. His description,
Germany. 1945 style. Must have been deeply unsettling,
confronting it all firsthand. And Ida, back in
her letters, she pushes back against his perhaps
more fatalistic view on anti -Semitism. So you
refuse us to give up hope? Still, I refuse to
give up the struggle. Because what else is there
to life for but happiness and what is happiness
but a state of well -being and security? Just
remarkable resilience. Truly. Okay, so now we
need to understand what Moritz Nels went through.
Theresienstadt. Before Theresienstadt, they were
briefly in Bergen -Belsen. They got transferred
in January of 44, partly because Moritz was a
decorated WWI veteran, a privilege that still
meant horrific conditions. Moritz's diary describes
the transport. Chillingly. A visceral account
of the dehumanizing journey within the Nazi system.
And Theresienstadt itself. The Nazi propaganda.
The model Jewish city. A complete facade. Stage
Red Cross visits. propaganda films. Yeah. While
behind the scenes. Deportations to Auschwitz
were happening in autumn 44, but Moritz and else
were spared that temporarily. Yes. Then spring
45, the war ending, a fragile hope starts to
grow inside the camp. But the final days were
still chaotic. Extremely. Hand over to the Red
Cross, but fighting still going on right outside
the gates, even after the official surrender.
Survival was precarious right until the very
end. And then May 1945. Manfred makes the journey
to Theresienstadt. Finally. The reunion with
his parents. In the Hamburg barracks, hearing
their accounts. The overcrowding, no privacy,
horrors we can't fathom. His diary entry. What
a misery. I could cry all night as father said
we can never pay them back. The sheer weight
of their suffering hits him. And even then, he
undertakes a mission for Princess Juliana to
help Dutch Jews still there. Yes, his commitment
to helping others didn't stop. An incredible
sense of responsibility. So, post -war. Moritz
and Els are released. They make it to Eindhoven
in the Netherlands. And Moritz's diary again.
That simple entry. Sleeping in freedom again
for the first time and in a bed speaks volumes.
Just the basic comforts meaning so much after
everything. Absolutely. Manfred visits them there,
brings German chickens for Sabbath, a deeply
symbolic gesture. He also searches for his Oma
Bertha in Friesland, though we don't learn her
fate from these sources, sadly. No. Manfred himself
continues his service. British military government.
Back in Borken and Recklinghausen. And term in
camp number four. Dealing with former Nazis,
camp guards, a difficult disillusioning task.
You see it in his letters. The cynicism, the
frustration, lack of remorse, self -serving excuses.
That quote about cracking up. Are you surprised,
kid, dass ich hier langsam überschnuppert? It
shows the strain. And his sense of justice is
fierce. refusing to help his former biology teacher's
denazification process. Holding him responsible
for the deaths of Borken's youth. Powerful stuff.
He was also just weary. Disillusioned with attitudes
he saw, weary of military service. Understandable
after everything. But amidst all this, the connection
with Anita deepens again, through letters. Yes.
Manfred's skeptical about writing a book feels
unsuited for a... Petty bourgeois existence.
But their letters become more playful, more meaningful,
hinting at deeper feelings. Exactly. Meanwhile,
Moritz, with help from Herman Fink, is trying
to reclaim his property in Borken. An arduous
process. And he and else are planning to emigrate.
To Palestine, yes. To join Karl. Manfred, meanwhile,
he needs a fresh start. Civilian life. Manchester.
University studies. He writes about not wanting
to tie himself to any country. Excited about
starting anew. And then Anita gets a temporary
visa for Britain. Plans are finally made to meet
in London. Manfred's anxious, isn't he? Worried
he might disappoint her after all this time apart.
Shows his vulnerability. After eight long years.
And then, March 1947, Anita travels across the
Atlantic. The reunion. Southampton. Finally together
again. And briefly, the epilogue tells us they
did marry. Built a life together. Yes. And they
returned to Borken in 1988 with other former
Jewish residents. An emotional visit. The town
confronting its past. That Hebrew song. The memorial
plaque. We let it happen. And thought not of
the consequences. Have we learned from it? A
powerful inscription. Sadly, Anita passed away
in 1991. But Manfred kept returning to Borken.
Annually. Speaking to students. Forming new connections.
Sharing his story. And then 1999, the three troop
veterans reunite in Aberdovey, a memorial dedicated
remembering their service. Bringing things full
circle in a way, acknowledging those bonds forged
in war and the importance of remembering. Well,
thank you so much for joining us for this deep
dive into Manfred Ganz's extraordinary life and
experiences. It's a story that stays with you.
It really does. We encourage you, listening,
share your favorite moment from his story or
maybe a detail that particularly resonated with
you down in the comments. Let's keep this important
conversation going. And please do share this
deep dive with anyone you think might find it
meaningful. Manfred's story, you know, pieced
together so carefully from the fragments of his
past. It's just such a powerful testament. to
the resilience of the human spirit, the enduring
strength of love, family, even in the absolute
darkest times. It really makes you think, doesn't
it? What does it truly mean to rebuild a life,
not just from physical ruins, but from those
deep scars of trauma and loss? Exactly. And how
do we ensure that these vital lessons from the
past are never forgotten, that they continue
to inform our present and maybe help shape a
more compassionate future? Lots to think about.