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A cousin of mine also came back from the camp. He came back from Dachau. Nobody was allowed to visit me, because there were children everywhere and I was infectious. The only person who visited me every day in the hospital, ignored the warnings, and who said that he wasn’t afraid, was Loffler, my future husband.
He brought me now and then, special things to eat, too. I was in the hospital for two months. They really cured me. When they let me go, he came for me. The doctor asked, ‘Who are you living with?’ I said, ‘Well, I actually live by myself, because I’ve got a room at my uncle’s, but they all work, so I’m always by myself.’ ‘You can’t stay by yourself, because it will take a good half year, or maybe more, before you can be alone, there are many different consequences from this serious brain infection.’
We left and on the road, instead of asking for my hand, he said, ‘See, you can’t be alone, we have to get married.’ And that’s what really happened: in 1946, not even a year later, we were already married.
At the end of 1938, when the war mood was everywhere and the big emigration wave started, my husband, Loffler wanted to leave. He was too late. By the time it was his turn, he couldn’t go. After the war, the emigration started again.
Many people came back, and they said they’re not staying in this country, they’d rather emigrate. We worked a lot – I also worked with him, he already had his own forwarding agency. We worked night and day, Saturday and Sunday, a lot. In those days emigrants could also take their furniture, appliances, whatever would fit into one wagon and with special permission they could even take silverware with them. Many took advantage of this possibility.
My husband said, let’s hurry up, so we don’t miss the boat again. We missed the boat that time as well, but in reality neither one of us really wanted to leave. If both of us had really wanted to, we wouldn’t have been so interested in profits and the company, but would have let everything be and would have gone.
The third occasion was in the year 1968, when at least half the friends we had left. By then we didn’t really want to leave. I was born here, my family had lived here for a century and a half, in this city. I really, really loved the city I was born in, and I only feel at home here. The truth is that whenever there was any threat of danger, I never wanted to leave here.
Some friends or ours, a married couple succeeded in getting over to Austria, and with a lot of difficulties, they arranged their emigration passports to go to Palestine. They stopped in Vienna – the lady had a very large knitting shop.
She was very clever; they stayed there, didn’t go on. I got a letter here and there, or they telephoned, invited us. That was the only time when we both thought about it [emigrating]. Both of us worked, and my daughter Anna had been born [in 1948]. Then the thought of it, leaving – it always got farther and farther from me, so that in the end, we stayed here.
He brought me now and then, special things to eat, too. I was in the hospital for two months. They really cured me. When they let me go, he came for me. The doctor asked, ‘Who are you living with?’ I said, ‘Well, I actually live by myself, because I’ve got a room at my uncle’s, but they all work, so I’m always by myself.’ ‘You can’t stay by yourself, because it will take a good half year, or maybe more, before you can be alone, there are many different consequences from this serious brain infection.’
We left and on the road, instead of asking for my hand, he said, ‘See, you can’t be alone, we have to get married.’ And that’s what really happened: in 1946, not even a year later, we were already married.
At the end of 1938, when the war mood was everywhere and the big emigration wave started, my husband, Loffler wanted to leave. He was too late. By the time it was his turn, he couldn’t go. After the war, the emigration started again.
Many people came back, and they said they’re not staying in this country, they’d rather emigrate. We worked a lot – I also worked with him, he already had his own forwarding agency. We worked night and day, Saturday and Sunday, a lot. In those days emigrants could also take their furniture, appliances, whatever would fit into one wagon and with special permission they could even take silverware with them. Many took advantage of this possibility.
My husband said, let’s hurry up, so we don’t miss the boat again. We missed the boat that time as well, but in reality neither one of us really wanted to leave. If both of us had really wanted to, we wouldn’t have been so interested in profits and the company, but would have let everything be and would have gone.
The third occasion was in the year 1968, when at least half the friends we had left. By then we didn’t really want to leave. I was born here, my family had lived here for a century and a half, in this city. I really, really loved the city I was born in, and I only feel at home here. The truth is that whenever there was any threat of danger, I never wanted to leave here.
Some friends or ours, a married couple succeeded in getting over to Austria, and with a lot of difficulties, they arranged their emigration passports to go to Palestine. They stopped in Vienna – the lady had a very large knitting shop.
She was very clever; they stayed there, didn’t go on. I got a letter here and there, or they telephoned, invited us. That was the only time when we both thought about it [emigrating]. Both of us worked, and my daughter Anna had been born [in 1948]. Then the thought of it, leaving – it always got farther and farther from me, so that in the end, we stayed here.
Location
Slovakia
Interview
Katarina Löfflerova