Lest It Be Forgotten After I Am Gone: Recollections Of Relocations - 11
“On VE Day May 8th 1945 (Victory in Europe Day), I was fortunate enough to be on leave in London and found myself in amongst the thousands and thousands of revellers in Trafalgar Square when King George Sixth and Queen Elizabeth came through in an open carriage waving to the masses assembled. Later that day I was outside Buckingham Palace when the King and Queen, accompanied by their daughters Princess Elizabeth and Margaret and Winston Churchill, came out on the famous viewing balcony to wave to everyone. We sung ourselves hoarse with renderings of Land of Hope and Glory, There’ll always be and England and the National Anthem. It was a wonderfully joyous never to be forgotten occasion.’’ recalls Raymon Benedyk.
After just over a year, during which time my back was damaged, an injury I have suffered the consequences of ever since, I was found to be of no further use in the mines and discharged. When I tried to claim a disability pension, I was refused on the grounds that “my injuries were not sustained in combating the enemy!” When I pointed out that I was combating the enemy as directed by the government of the day, I was again refused on the same grounds. I gave up.
And so in 1946 I returned to the family business and my social life continued as before. However, one of the market people we sold our goods to, who came to our premises each Friday to sort through our material for anything she found suitable for her customers, I got quite friendly with and arranged to take her home in our van at the end of the day. Since it was on the other side of London, it was agreed that I should stay the night after the supper she provided. In this way I met her family, her three daughters and young son. The oldest daughter was married and the two younger ones engaged to service boys. Most nights we played cards with their friends who dropped by and, if any of the visitors got tired, we went to sleep on a nearby settee or armchair. It was as free and easy as that.
Most Saturdays we went out as a group, either to the cinema, the theatre, an occasional concert, ballet and even opera. I was being introduced to a whole new way of life that I never knew before existed, and I was really enjoying myself. I suppose I must have been considered a little bit of an interesting oddity to my companions however, in that I did not smoke, did not drink beers, wines or spirits, and not even tea or coffee, so that when we occasionally engaged in more juvenile games and pastimes where kissing was involved i.e. Postman’s Knock and the like, and I made it clear that I did not want to be kissed on the mouth – if at all, which really was the whole point of the exercise, everyone had a good laugh! I have changed all that now!
At home there were no changes and, other than clothes, petrol and food rationing, and a few other shortages that continued well past the end of the war, my social life continued very much as before. At the end of 1945 I was invited to my first all night party, where I was introduced to a very nice young lady with whom I got more than just friendly. As the evening became night, boys and girls somehow partnered off in the darkness to make themselves comfortable wherever they ended up, some on armchairs and others, like me, on the floor. I was very very innocent, and my partner soon made it known what she expected of me by placing my hands on her breasts and indicating to me with no uncertain actions what she wanted me to do with them. I was a very willing pupil and experienced all kinds of unmentionable discomforts of which I am sure she was aware. Next morning we went out for a walk and arranged another date, but my education in that field of knowledge got no further after the initial experience.
As 1946 became 1947, I began to formulate an ambition to travel around the world, via America, Australia, South Africa and home. I was not concerned as to how long it took and made my enquiries. I soon discovered that to get into America I would need a sponsor who would ensure that I would not become a burden on the state. As it happened, a brother of my father who had gone to America in 1912, made it known that he and his wife planned to visit London to meet up with his London based family that he had not seen since about 1908 in the old country, when he had left his village back in Poland, almost forty years previously. I made a mental note to ask that uncle to be my sponsor. When he arrived and I had the opportunity, I did ask and he readily agreed. So I went ahead and activated my plans accordingly.
Sea travel was the way in those days, and travel to America was usually only in luxury ocean liners. However, I learned that travel to America was also being made in converted ex-troop ships quite inexpensively and, for just £28.00 I made my booking leaving Southampton on September 20th 1947. Before this date, I ensured that I would have a little financial ‘cushion’ by arranging the bank transfer of £100 – the maximum allowed then – to a New York bank, made my farewells to family and friends during the weeks before that date, and eventually waved goodbye to everyone as my train for the docks pulled out of the station.
I found that the ship, probably carrying around five hundred passengers or so, provided very Spartan facilities in that we were accommodated on four tier bunks way down in the interior of the ship, with no room for our baggage; also that the toilet facilities were entirely open plan with no doors or even partitions provided between each crapper. This initially was the cause of considerable embarrassment to all who saw this and, no doubt like me, planned to use those facilities in the dead of night when it was to be anticipated that no one else would be present. However, after the first night when the area was found being well used twentyfour hours a day, one soon learned just to get on with it.
The food too was a real eye opener, with as much as one wanted being provided. The white bread, the first being seen for more than eight years back in England, was at first thought to be cake and tasted like it too. There were also a lot of girls on board with whom we socialised during the day. Most of them were war brides going to America to join their husbands, but there were others who appeared unattached, and it was quite pleasant chatting to them. One evening in the moonlight, when I found myself talking to several of them in the darkness, I was at first mystified by the movement and quiet whispering going on around me, as well as the undoubted rustle of female attire. However, my mystification was soon answered when I realised that members of the ship’s crew were clambering up from below deck and getting together with the girls. Fortunately there was sufficient moonlight for the sailors not to mistake me for one of their intended quests!
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If you wish to make a donation to the Elsa Benedyk Memorial Fund, set up by her friends and colleagues entirely without Raymon’s knowledge to provide funds to support the children's ward of the Shaare Zedek Hospital in Jerusalem to commemorate her life of work with children in her nursery schools, it would be most gratefully received. The amount that you give will not be revealed to Raymon. He is not a trustee of the fund. Your cheque, payable to the Fund, should be sent to the fund's Treasurer Mrs I Dokelman, 14 Charville Court, 30/32 Gayton Road, Harrow, Middx HA1 2HT.
