The Broken Threads. Part 4
From Berlin To Paris: Back To Ordinary Life? (1946-1963)

‘Tomorrow, I was due to start a new life. How could I do that when there was nothing but death behind me? What life force could I draw from all that destruction?’
– Władysław Szpilman, The Pianist

And so, Inga, Ilse, Erich and Nina survived. The odds of all four of them escaping death were slim [240], but that is precisely what happened. However, the analysis would remain incomplete without examining, as Michael Pollak does in the final chapter of L’expérience concentrationnaire, the conditions and circumstances of this family of survivors’ ‘return to ordinary life’. Having examined separately the life stories of Inga, Ilse and Nina, presumed to be Jewish or half-Jewish (Part 2), and that of Erich, the anti-German (Part 3), this section will once again focus on the family as a whole.

Initially, from 1946 to 1954, the Radsack-Salomons remained in France. However, Erich travelled regularly to Germany, where he dubbed French films into German on behalf of the French army in the American Occupation Zone. Then, from 1955 to 1963 – with the exception of Nina, who had since become a French citizen – the Radsacks returned to Berlin for Erich’s work. Throughout these years, in order to survive, the family continued to employ strategies to ensure they were recognised in a favourable light by the French and German states: Erich was recognised as a political deportee (but failed to be recognised as a Resistance deportee); together with Ilse, they took steps to be recognised as victims of National Socialism, to be rehoused and compensated, and to obtain the right to reside in France (as stateless persons with refugee status) and in Germany (where they regained German nationality). In 1963, the couple decided to stay in Berlin: they settled there permanently and gave up on living in Paris.

I – Staying in Postwar France (1946-1954)

In this section, the practical aspects of reintegration into everyday life are examined in two stages: first, we will focus on those relating to the recognition of refugee and victim status, which enable individuals to regularise their residence in France, find accommodation and receive compensation; we will then look at those relating to Erich’s return to work.

1) Refugees and Victims: Rehousing, Regularization, Compensation

On 8 May 1945, the Third Reich surrendered. Later that month, Erich, having been released from Dachau and repatriated to France, was able to join his wife and daughter at their hotel room in Neuilly. As for Inga, ever since she fled Denmark with her late sister’s family in October 1943, she had remained a refugee in Sweden. She could count on the support of the Swedish authorities and her family:

‘In Sweden, they [the Swedish authorities, ed.] looked after them and gave them a small daily allowance so they could get by, buy food, find somewhere to live, and so on. And then, as Jorgen had worked for the Danish police, he was given the same post in Sweden. So he was able to earn a bit of a living that way too, and have somewhere for everyone to stay.’ (Nina)

By June 1945, Inga was able to return to Denmark. She still had the right to reside there: her Danish emergency passport, originally issued on 30 March 1943, had been extended once in March-April 1944, and a second time on 19 April 1945 in Stockholm (at a time when Denmark had not yet been liberated). Shortly afterwards, on 29 July 1945, she was finally able to return to France, after just over two years in exile.

This marked the end of their ordeal: for the first time since September 1939, the Salomon-Radsack family was reunited in its entirety, safe in Neuilly. Like most Jewish-German refugees in France in the immediate post-war period, they refused to return to Germany [241]. It is worth noting that Nina’s other grandmother, Helene (Erich’s mother), who had continued to live in Berlin during the Second World War, survived the bombing of the block of flats where she lived [242]. She continued to live in Berlin and the surrounding area until her death in 1962.

Having survived the war, life must go on: the end of the dangers by no means signifies the end of practical problems. And these problems, in their most mundane form, are set to multiply, touching on issues such as rehousing, the status of stateless persons, and compensation for victims. Let us first consider the total social fact of housing. The hotel room rented by Erich and Ilse could accommodate their daughter Nina, but not a fourth person: as Inga had returned to Neuilly, another room had to be rented, which was financially costly. Furthermore, as we have seen (see Part 2), Erich found himself unable to reclaim the tenancy of his former flat on Rue Frédéric Passy. Rather than embarking on legal proceedings which the family no doubt anticipated would be lengthy, complex and unlikely to succeed [243], they decided to look for a new rental property. In the meantime, they left the hotel for a more economical option: a boarding house in Le Vésinet. Nina then started secondary school in Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Finally, after submitting an application highlighting his status as a political deportee to Dachau, Erich was offered a new flat to rent in Neuilly, at 98 Rue de Longchamp. The family moved in there in late 1945 or early 1946.

In addition to the problem of finding a place to live, there was the issue of retaining the right to reside on French territory. The whole family, being stateless, had to be recognised as refugees in order to regularise their status. Initially, Erich, having returned from Dachau, received a repatriation card from the Ministry for Prisoners, Deportees and Refugees, which served as a provisional identity document and specified that he had been a political deportee to Dachau [244]. Then, on 7 September 1945, the Intergovernmental Committee for Refugees issued him with a certificate proving that, as a stateless person from Germany, he enjoyed the rights granted to refugees in France. Ilse and Nina were also recognised as stateless refugees of German origin. The refugee certificate had to be renewed periodically: for example, Erich and Ilse, who were placed under the legal and administrative protection of the French Office for the Protection of Refugees and Stateless Persons (Ofpra, founded in 1952), received from it, in December 1954 and February 1955 respectively, a refugee certificate valid for three years.

Inga’s case is more complex. In the immediate post-war period [245], her status could be described as uncertain: she did, admittedly, hold a Danish emergency passport enabling her to enter and reside on Danish territory, and to be regarded abroad as a Danish national. However, this document had to be renewed annually: she was therefore Danish only for a fixed period. In April 1946, her auxiliary passport expired. In practical terms, this meant that, in the eyes of the French authorities, Inga was no longer Danish. In order to regularise her situation, she went to the Danish Consulate in Paris in July to apply for the renewal of her passport. The procedure was the same as in 1943: the Consulate forwarded the application to the MFA in Copenhagen, which in turn passed it on to the Ministry of Justice. But at the end of August 1946, the Ministry of Justice rejected the application (and informed the MFA, which in turn reported this to the Consulate), arguing that Inga had spent too little time on Danish territory to be granted citizenship. Thus, within the Danish bureaucracy, an exceptional period came to an end: as Inga no longer needed the protection afforded by Danish citizenship against German anti-Semitic persecution, the Ministry of Justice reverted to its pre-war approach. The fact that Inga was issued with an emergency passport in 1943 does not entitle her to renew it indefinitely, let alone to become a Danish citizen permanently.

Having become stateless, Inga soon encountered ‘various difficulties with her identity papers in France’ [246]. In order to be recognised as a refugee and to enjoy the right to reside legally in the country that this status confers, she had to explain the situation she had found herself in during the war. To this end, she was able to rely on an ‘explanatory statement regarding the issue of this emergency passport for use by the French refugee assistance service’ [247]: this document was issued to Inga by the Consulate, following a request submitted by Jorgen Smith to the Danish Ministry of Foreign Affairs in February 1948. Consequently, in March of the same year, Inga was granted a residence permit in France: the symbolic value and the arguments set out in the document provided by the Consulate proved effective. From 1942 to 1948, Jorgen had therefore consistently used his position as chief of police to come to Inga’s aid.

Although Erich was authorised to reside in France as a refugee, he had another solution in mind that would allow him to remain in the country permanently: becoming a French citizen. However, his efforts to obtain citizenship, initially begun in 1939 shortly before or at the start of France’s entry into the war, would never come to fruition:

‘He was never French. He’d tried after the war, just as he’d served in the Foreign Legion. When he enlisted in the Legion, he’d been promised: “Since you’re joining the Legion, you’ll be French when you return!” But that wasn’t true.’ (Nina)

It wasn’t for lack of trying: following Law No. 48-1251 of 6 August 1948 establishing the definitive status of Resistance deportees and internees, Erich’s lawyer (Franz Herzfelder, who will be introduced later) advised him in January 1949 to take steps to obtain the status of Resistance deportee and internee, and the Medal of Deportation and Internment for acts of Resistance. But these applications were rejected. Presumably, Erich continued to be identified as a political deportee rather than a Resistance deportee. Although the statements from ‘Lieutenant Émile’ and ‘Colonel Vauban’ clearly show that he had contributed to the Resistance before joining the French secret services, and that it was whilst on an undercover mission for them that he was deported to Dachau, they failed to convince those responsible for assessing his case.

Ultimately, then, Erich Radsack – the anti-Nazi German, a pioneer of French-language film dubbing, who enlisted in the Foreign Legion against his country of origin and joined the Resistance as an interpreter, a lieutenant in the Second and Fifth Bureaux, sent by them on missions to Germany where he faced death on a daily basis in Singen and then in Dachau – was not recognised as a deportee of the Resistance, and did not become a French citizen. The French authorities nevertheless granted him partial recognition of his service by awarding him, in 1952, a residence permit as a ‘privileged resident’: this status, created by an ordinance of 2 November 1945, was valid for ten years and could be obtained by foreigners who had resided continuously for at least three years on French territory and who were either under 35 years of age at the time of their entry into the country or, like Erich, had rendered ‘significant services’ to France and/or had served in a unit of the French or Allied armed forces.

In fact, only his daughter Nina became a French citizen. After the war, she met Michel Metzger [248] (1927-2006), a medical student. Having prepared for and passed her baccalaureate as a stateless person, Nina trained as a nurse. She married Michel in 1951, and on that occasion acquired French nationality. It is worth noting that during the war, Michel’s parents, Roger Metzger [249] (1903-1980) and Paulette Metzger (née Maugin, 1906-1998), hid a Jewish child – Michel’s friend Jacques Butterfass (1926-2011) – in their home whilst they were living in Paris [250]. Thus, a family that had been hidden met another that had provided shelter.

Alongside their efforts to find new accommodation and regularise their status, Erich and Ilse embarked on a third set of procedures: whilst they decided not to reclaim the tenancy of their former flat, they applied for compensation as ‘victims of war damage’ following the confiscation of their property. The complete file relating to the compensation proceedings is held at the National Archives [251]. It reveals that this procedure was initiated on 27 July 1945: Erich sent a letter to the Seine Prefecture (War Damage Department), accompanied by a list of losses and a certificate from the mayor of Neuilly confirming the looting. A file was opened. The Prefecture replied on 10 September 1945, using a standard form, stating that the issue of compensation for victims of spoliation had not yet been resolved, but that the rights of those affected were safeguarded. This form was stamped ‘Israelites’, a sign of recognition of the anti-Semitic nature of the spoliation of the flat at 16 Frédéric Passy.

In June 1947, following the loss of their first claim file, the Radsacks had to restart the procedure with the Ministry of Reconstruction and Town Planning (Seine departmental delegation). Attached to this new file were, in particular: a detailed inventory (117 looted items), three notarised statements, and an insurance file (L’Helvétia). The Radsacks estimated the replacement value of their household effects at one and a half million francs (at 1947 values). They also highlighted their status as stateless refugees, Erich’s service in the French army and his status as a former deportee, in order to be recognised as priority beneficiaries under the legislation on war damages. In December 1947, the Ministry requested further supporting documents. These were provided in February-March 1948, enabling the file to be forwarded for consideration in April. At the end of May, three years after the initial application, a provisional decision was issued: 108,200 francs were awarded [252]. The advance payment was made in two instalments by the Crédit National (May and November 1948).

However, full compensation was not paid until following a complex and lengthy process, which took nearly ten more years. It was not until February 1957 that the final instalment was paid: it amounted to 1,535,740 francs, almost all of which was in Crédit National securities. Taking into account the instalments paid in 1948, the total compensation therefore amounted to nearly 1,644,000 francs. At first glance, one might be tempted to believe that the losses estimated in 1947 (one and a half million francs) had been fully compensated. However, in reality, when one takes into account inflation between 1947 and 1957 and the deductions made by the authorities [253], the compensation appears to be partial: it represents only between a third and a half of the estimated losses.

2) Continuing Dubbing and Doubling: Risle-Film, a French Instrument of Influence in Germany

The practical and administrative steps outlined above constitute the first stage in the process of returning to an ‘ordinary’ life – or at least one as similar as possible to that of the pre-war period. Whilst this is a necessary condition, it is far from sufficient: being given priority for housing is one thing, but one must still provide financial guarantees to become a tenant and then pay the rent; initiating administrative and legal proceedings also involves procedural costs and the expense of paying for a solicitor’s advice.

But during the war, the Radsacks’ savings dwindled; they were subsequently used to pay for the hotel; Inga’s widow’s pension was frozen; as the contents of their former flat had been looted, it is only possible to sell the few items that had been put into safe storage or taken with them; they cannot yet count on compensation, which, as late as the end of 1945, they could already suspect would not be granted for several years. They therefore had to earn a living, and the most urgent priority for Erich was to find work again. Initially, it seems he relied on his network of contacts in the Parisian dubbing industry to carry out various tasks, notably taking up subtitling with the support of Ilse, who was trained in typing:

‘[After the war], he no longer had a studio. So he carried on, in the sense that he did translations, with my mother typing them up for him, and so on. As he still knew a lot of people in the business, he was lent a studio on the Champs-Élysées, where he would watch pre-war films. And he’d watch them to see if he could translate them for people.’ (Nina)

It also appears that Erich tried to revive Rythmographie. This is, in any case, borne out by a letterhead from the dubbing company [254], as well as a request to relaunch the company ‘La Centrale’, of which Erich was a partner and which had its registered office at 2, Square Trudaine (the address of Rythmographie’s registered office at the time of its creation in December 1932). The application for authorisation to restart ‘La Centrale’ is held in the archives of the Paris Police Prefecture [255]. It reveals that this company, established on 1 August 1933 [256] and whose object was ‘the import and export of all goods and representation in all its forms’, was managed before the war by a certain Roger Winger. Among Roger’s partners, in addition to Erich, were Robert Philippsborn [257] and Herbert Levy. The company ceased trading on 15 December 1938 ‘due to the economic crisis’. The partners therefore submitted a request to the Paris police to reopen the business, which was granted.

There is more to this than meets the eye. It should be recalled that Erich, when he was sent on a mission to Germany in the spring of 1945, had been provided with Swiss identity documents by the French secret services, according to which his name was ‘Charles Gloor’. In March 1946, this alias was still in use. In Le quotidien juridique of 9-12 March 1946 [258], a legal document dated 7 March is reported, stating that Herbert Levy and Robert Philippsborn were no longer associate members of ‘La Centrale’. The company’s registered office was transferred to 80 Rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis. Its share capital was set at 125,000 francs. However, the deed reveals further details: it stipulates that Roger, Herbert and Erich accept… Charles Gloor as a partner. Furthermore, Herbert and Robert transferred their shares to Erich and his alias, Gloor. The reasons why this administrative alter ego became a partner and received shares in the company – when, from an accounting perspective, transferring them to Erich himself would have amounted to a strictly equivalent transaction – remain unknown. Ultimately, Erich held 501 shares of one hundred francs each in the company, Gloor held the same number, and Roger Winger held 248.

From a logical point of view, there are only two possibilities. Either the decision to ‘keep alive’ Charles Gloor administratively and to link him to the affairs of ‘La Centrale’ was taken by Erich in agreement with the French secret services, more specifically the Service de documentation extérieure et de contre-espionnage (SDECE, successor to the DGER since December 1945, which had ‘created’ Gloor). Or it was taken without the SDECE’s knowledge.

The first hypothesis seems the most likely, as we know from other sources that, at the very least between 1946 and 1949, Erich continued to work undercover for the French army. Nina states that following his dubbing and subtitling work in Paris, which ‘cannot have lasted very long’ [259], Erich ‘had tried to set up his own dubbing company in Munich’. In reality, it was not Erich who travelled to Munich: it was his French alias created by the DGER, Étienne Risle. In Munich, whilst in disguise, he set up and ran the company Risle-Film: ‘The Bavaria Studios also housed the company Risle-Film (run by Étienne Risle, who produced dubbing of French films with Conrad von Molo as production manager) […].’ [260]

Sources available online have made it possible to establish that at least eight French films were dubbed into German by Risle-Film [261]. The first to be identified, released in Germany in 1946, is Voyage sans espoir, a film by Christian-Jaque originally released in 1943. In 1947, Carmen, also directed by Christian-Jaque, was released in German cinemas following its release in France in 1945:

‘Dubbing carried out in MUNICH by RISLE-Films (on behalf of the Internationale Filmallianz (IFA), Baden-Baden). Production manager: Etienne RISLE. Dialogue supervisor: Conrad von Molo.’ [262]

This was followed by three films released in Germany in 1948 (Le Ciel est à vous, released in France in 1944; Tant que je vivrai in 1946; L’Aigle à deux têtes in 1948), and three films in 1949 (La Bête humaine, released in France in 1938; L’Affaire du collier in 1946; Quai des Orfèvres in 1947). Risle-Film is therefore characterised by its specialisation in German-language dubbing of French films from the 1930s and 1940s, directed by filmmakers who had achieved considerable renown (Renoir, Clouzot, Cocteau, Grémillon, Christian-Jaque). This took place against a backdrop in which Munich and Bavaria were part of the American Occupation Zone established after the Second World War.

Everything therefore suggests that Risle-Film served as a means for France to exert influence in the American Occupation Zone in Germany, linked to the Second Bureau (the secret service that Erich had joined in 1944 and for which his fictitious identity, ‘Étienne Risle’, had been created). This is further confirmed by a key document: a letter dated 7 January 1948, sent by an attaché at the Ministry of Finance and Economic Affairs (Directorate of External Finance) to the Under-Secretary of State for German and Austrian Affairs (Department of Internal and Cultural Affairs). The letter reveals that, following a request from the Secretary of State, the financial attaché agreed to grant Erich a mission allowance of 100 dollars per month [263], which at that time represented a comfortable income and high purchasing power in Munich. The reason given: ‘Mr RISLE [has] been commissioned by the “Cinema” section of the Information Directorate of the G.M.Z.F.O. [264] to carry out German-language post-synchronisation of French films in the American occupation zone.’ The decision was notified to the Foreign Exchange Office in Baden-Baden (the town where the company commissioning the dubbing from Risle-Film, the Internationale Filmallianz, was based).

Figure 7. Payment for dubbing French films in the American Occupation Zone (January 1948)

It can therefore be argued that, through Risle-Film, the GMZFO pursued a twofold objective: on the one hand, to exert ‘soft power’ and French influence over the German population; on the other, to promote the French film industry, against a backdrop of fierce commercial competition with the other occupying powers, and in particular the American film industry. In these circumstances, it is hardly surprising that the creation of the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) in May 1949 – marking the end of the French and American occupation zones in Germany – coincided with the cessation of Risle-Film’s activities.

Thus, from 1946 to 1949, Erich worked for the military government of the French occupation zone whilst continuing to live under a fictitious identity, that of the Frenchman Étienne Risle. Erich therefore earned his living by promoting French film interests. This was a secret activity, which he could not afford to disclose. It was therefore impossible for him to include it in the application for naturalisation that he had submitted. Perhaps Erich found some consolation in having been French through his alter ego Étienne, whose existence undoubtedly came to an end with that of Charles Gloor following the creation of the Federal Republic of Germany.

II – Returning to Germany for Lack of a Better Option (1955-1963)

Between 1955 and 1963, following a career opportunity, Erich and Ilse moved to West Berlin. They had to go through a new set of procedures to regain their German citizenship and be recognised as victims of Nazism by the Federal Republic of Germany. They led a precarious existence until 1963, when, through a combination of circumstances, they were once again able to rent a flat on a long-term basis in Berlin. Staying in West Germany meant giving up any hope of returning to France: this decision was made as reluctantly as it was a relief.

1) Becoming German Again: Labour Mobility and Legal Proceedings

From 1946 to 1949, Erich’s double life (Radsack in Paris, Risle in Munich) was also reflected in his movements: when he was away in Germany, his wife, his daughter and Inga remained in Neuilly [265]. Subsequently, between 1950 and 1954, no records relating to his professional activities have been found [266]. It can be surmised that his circumstances during those years were precarious, marked by numerous trips back and forth between West Germany and France. We know at least that in 1955, at a time when Erich was struggling to find stable employment, an opportunity finally arose:

‘He received an offer from a production company in Berlin, which told him: “If you come to Berlin, we’ll give you a contract to do dubbing until you retire.” So he moved there. That was in 1955. He moved with my mother and my grandmother.’ (Nina)

Ilse and Inga therefore followed Erich to West Berlin in May 1955. This move, ten years after the end of the war, was thus intended as a work-related relocation, rather than the first step towards a permanent return to Berlin. Once there, they began the process of regaining their German nationality, that is to say, ceasing to be stateless and becoming full citizens of the FRG. In July 1955, Ilse received her West German passport, which confirmed that she had regained German nationality. This step should not be interpreted as a sign of ‘reconciliation’ with their country of origin (as if the couple had ‘reconnected’ with the German national identity): rather, it should be seen as an administrative procedure aimed at simplifying their lives in West Berlin.

Initially, the three of them lived in a boarding house. Inga was subsequently placed in a care home, where she passed away on 4 May 1957 [267], 14 years after being rescued by Denmark.

Erich worked in West Berlin until 1958-1959. The sources remain rather sketchy on this point. According to Nina, he then spent ‘a few years’ working in dubbing. He was ‘sent to Stockholm to learn how to produce subtitles’: for this family with such a distinctly European history, this marked yet another – and final – visit to Sweden. We know that in 1957 he attended the Berlinale [268]. A few months earlier:

‘He’s hoping to do business in the house where he’s the “Hausverwalter” [property manager, ed.] – with dubbing!!! There were several large screening rooms to set up, and Dad has found clients and is currently signing contracts!’ (Ilse to Nina, 16 January 1957)

Finally, around 1959-1960, following a last-ditch attempt by Erich to revive the company after several setbacks [269], he retired.

Given the job insecurity Erich experienced during the 1950s, the economic successes of the Parisian dubbing industry in the 1930s were a distant memory. The couple’s savings had gradually dwindled. In May 1957, Ilse explained in a letter to Nina: ‘At the moment we’ve run out of “cash”. We’re pretty “broke”.’ Readers may be surprised by this: after all, the couple had been compensated by France three months earlier, to the tune of over one and a half million francs. But that would be to overlook the fact that compensation for the confiscated property was paid in illiquid securities: it was still impossible to ‘withdraw’ these francs to convert them into Deutsche Mark (DM). And when Erich requested the conversion of these securities into cash in 1960, his request was refused [270].

In May 1956, at a time when Erich still had no certainty regarding the amount or the date of the compensation, he called on his lawyer to take further steps with the French Art Recovery Service. Documents held in the Diplomatic Archives have revealed that this procedure was initiated by the French office of the United Restitution Organisation (URO).

Erich’s lawyer was Franz Herzfelder (François Herzfelder following a change of first name [271], 1901-1998). A Jewish lawyer born in Munich, he fled the Reich in 1933 after his licence to practise was revoked in May, and sought refuge in Nice [272]. From 1942 until the Liberation of France, he lived in hiding. After the war, he founded the Association for the Defence of the Interests of Victims of the Axis (ADIVA), before being appointed in 1948 as head of the Paris office of the URO, which, as Sophie Baby explains, ‘had just been established in London to provide legal assistance to the (predominantly Jewish) victims of Nazism residing outside Germany in their claims for restitution and compensation’ [273]. At that time, lawyers specialising in reparations issues and representing the interests of Jewish claimants before the German courts had often themselves experienced exile [274]. Herzfelder headed the Paris branch of the URO until February 1957.

Franz and his wife were close friends of Erich and Ilse. On 2 June 1946, they signed the couple’s ‘guest book’, offering them their ‘best wishes for prosperity’ on that occasion. It is possible that the two couples met in Nice. It was Herzfelder who advised Erich, in 1949, to apply for the status of ‘Resistance deportee’. In May 1956, whilst he was still director of the URO [275], he contacted the Art Recovery Service (Service de recuperation artistique, located at 2 Rue Berryer, Paris) to find out whether any restitution claims had been lodged with it on behalf of his Jewish clients and on behalf of Erich (who was not Jewish himself but whose property had been confiscated due to his wife’s presumed Jewishness).

With the support of the URO, the couple subsequently brought legal proceedings against the Federal Republic of Germany [276]. For many Jews repatriated to the Federal Republic of Germany, immediate aid of 6,000 marks (from 1956) and the prospect of compensation provided an incentive to remain in Germany, as this start-up capital was seen as a means of rebuilding their lives [277]. Thus, in 1957-1958, against a backdrop of financial hardship for the couple, as we have seen, they brought their first lawsuit against the German state. Erich and Ilse, recognised as victims of Nazism, were awarded a monthly pension. In 1960, they continued these proceedings:

‘It seems we have to go to court again (against the German state) – we’d thought everything would be easier and almost over by now – we’ll need patience once more!’ (letter from Ilse to Nina, 23 August 1960)

A certificate issued by the West German Embassy in June 1983, a few months after Erich’s death, reveals the exact amount of Ilse’s pension: she is ‘the recipient of two German pensions as a victim of National Socialism, amounting to DM 1,320 and DM 274 per month’.

2) Farewell to France: Resignation

In 1955, the move back to Berlin was still seen as a work-related migration, at a time when Erich was seizing a career opportunity. As the years went by, with Erich working in West Berlin and the couple taking steps to regain German citizenship and be recognised as victims of Nazism, one might think that they intended to settle permanently in Berlin. In fact, this was not the case: it was not until 1963 that Erich and Ilse gave up on the idea of returning to France.

Between 1955 and 1959, their life in Berlin was precarious, marked by numerous successive moves. Staying with friends or renting furnished flats (where they never stayed for more than a few months), they harboured, without much conviction, the hope of becoming tenants of an unfurnished flat where they could finally set up their furniture from Rue de Longchamp (temporarily stored in a warehouse). In February 1959, for example, having just moved into a furnished flat in Charlottenburg (Leistikowstraße 6), the prospect of settling permanently in Berlin did not really fill them with enthusiasm: ‘So that’s it, we’ve finally moved! […] We’re now on the waiting list for an unfurnished flat, but I’m not particularly keen on the idea at the moment, given the situation in Berlin.’ (Erich to Nina, 6 February 1959); ‘Given the “curious” situation in Berlin – I don’t really feel like putting any more money into this flat – never mind.’ (Ilse to Nina, 5 February 1959).

Against the backdrop of the Berlin Crisis, which began in November 1958 with Khrushchev’s ultimatum regarding Berlin’s status, Erich and Ilse therefore regarded a return to Paris as a still viable option. In late 1959 or early 1960, they had to move house once again. In June 1960, they were living in the Wilmersdorf district (Jenaer Straße, 23), still uncertain about the future: ‘I don’t know yet whether we’ll be leaving Berlin… it’s hard to know where else to settle! We’ll have to wait and see!!’ (Ilse to Nina, 18 December 1960).

The decision to settle permanently in Berlin was taken in 1963 following two events. Firstly, Erich won a court case against Mars-Film G.m.bH: this dubbing company, originally founded in 1942 in the Ruhleben district of Berlin [278] to produce training films for the German army, was used after the war to dub films for Soviet and then British troops during the occupation of the city by the four Allied powers [279]. It is not known whether Erich was an employee, a director or a rival of Mars-Film, which, like Risle-Film, was an instrument of an occupying army: the fact remains that he took the dispute to court, which ruled in his favour. His savings were restored. At the same time, following the termination of Erich and Ilse’s previous tenancy, a friend found them an unfurnished flat available to rent (Tile-Wardenberg-Straße, 12). The opportunity was seen as too good to turn down:

‘We have to move out of our flat on 28 February! […] In the end, our friend Hilde […] managed to sort us out an unfurnished four-room flat and we said “OK” yesterday at midday. […] We still need to buy the furniture! Fortunately, I recently won my case against Mars-film […]. Our future and final address from 1 March will therefore be: 1 Berlin 21, Tile-Wardenberg-Strasse 12.’ (Erich to Nina, 10 February 1963)

‘[Our flat] is right next to where we were born – Nina and I! … next to the “Tiergarten” (“Berlin’s Bois de Boulogne”) . We have hot water and a lift; the rent is 225 DM a month – cheaper than what we’re paying at the moment – and we’re on the first floor with a small balcony.’ (Ilse to Nina, 10 February 1963)

For the time being, the letters they exchanged reflect Erich and Ilse’s general sense of resignation. They express their disappointment at having to give up the idea of spending their twilight years in Paris: ‘I think our [other trial] will also be over by 1 March, so after that we’ll be proper pensioners, settled permanently in Berlin, alas!’ (Erich to Nina, 10 February 1963); ‘Our flat (in Berlin! … in Paris or the surrounding area, that was the dream… but…!)’ (Ilse to Nina, 10 February 1963). Fifteen years later, in a letter to Nina dated 4 September 1979, Ilse recalls the year 1955 as the one in which she had to ‘reluctantly leave la douce France!’: a sign of a strong attachment, despite everything, to the country where she had lived from 1932 to 1955. However, one should not paint too bleak a picture of this decision to give up living in France. Whilst it seems to have been experienced as a heart-wrenching decision, an equally strong sense of relief is emphasised:

‘Of course, the idea of living in our own furniture from now on delighted us, and you took the news in your stride. It would have been better to do the same in France, but we had to make a decision straight away and the opportunity with this flat was there. […] Since May 1955 we’ve finally had proper mattresses and beds!’ (Erich to Nina, 21 March 1963)

‘For the first time, I can “unpack” the boxes I packed in Neuilly in 1955!!! From 1 March, we can truly live “at home”… surrounded by our memories of Rue de Longchamp!’ (Ilse to Nina, 10 February 1963)

Conclusion

‘He told me his story, and today I have forgotten it, but it was undoubtedly a painful, cruel and moving story, as are all our stories – hundreds of thousands of stories, all different and all imbued with a startling and tragic necessity.’
– Primo Levi, If This Is a Man

From 1963 onwards, life went on for Ilse and Erich at 12 Tile-Wardenberg-Straße, Berlin. Ten years later, on 14 August 1973, Erich suffered a stroke. Following this, he lost his command of the German language and could only express himself in French:

‘So, of course, he was admitted to hospital. When he was admitted, the head of the ward he was in went to see him, and my father could only speak French. Ilse had to translate for the doctor.’ (Nina)

‘If he tries to speak, he “speaks” in French.’ (Ilse to Nina, 25 August 1973)

This can be seen as an ironic and tragic twist of fate, as well as a testament to the central role of languages in the story that has been told: ten years after giving up on living in France – a country where he had worked, alongside which he had fought, and which in return had attempted to murder his family and had plundered their possessions – in Berlin, it was German that Erich forgot.

In December 1982, he passed away. A few months later, Ilse returned to live in Paris, first with her daughter, then in a care home. From Paris to Berlin, and back again.

And so, the threads were broken. For this family, it was first and foremost their membership of the Jewish community that came to an end, in the second half of the nineteenth century. Subsequently, their membership of the Protestant community was deemed incomplete by the Third Reich. Every national connection (Denmark, Germany, France) was strained and severed. The Salomons (Alfred, Erich, Robert, Günter and his wife) died in devastating solitude. Inga, Ilse and Nina were saved by a handful of righteous souls. Erich owed his survival to his talents for disguise and double-dealing; and until now, his contributions and commitments had remained largely unseen, much like those hundreds of thousands of stories, all different, all tragic, all forgotten.

Ilse had numerous health problems, but was delighted to spend the final years of her life close to her daughter [280]. She passed away on 17 August 1988 in Bagnolet. She was buried in Pantin Cemetery in Paris. She had wanted to write her memoirs, but the opportunity never arose [281].

With the death of Ilse – ‘Aunt Rose’, as some of her close friends called her – a whole world has indeed come to an end:

‘With Ilse’s passing, we lose someone whose life was a long series of hardships, sorrows and problems; yet what courage she showed, what determination she had to hold on, to always face up to difficulties, and never to lose her sense of humour and her optimism. This attitude nevertheless managed to inspire others with energy and a zest for life. ” (a close friend of Ilse’s, to Nina, 25 August 1988)

‘It is with deep sorrow that we have learnt of Aunt Rose’s death […]. Despite a turbulent life, so hard at times, she remained true to herself and, above all, to others. She was truly an exceptional woman.’ (from Ilse’s relatives, to Nina, 18 August 1988)

Photo 7. Erich, Inga, Nina, and Ilse (Neuilly, 1945, Postwar)

‘THE DREAM. An elderly lady confides in a friend:
– “If I were ever to be reborn, I’d like it to be as a daisy.”
What a marvellous fate!
Men undress you whilst whispering words of love in your ear.’
Ilse, to Nina

Notes, sources and bibliography

The notes and bibliography are available in the full version of this research, which can be accessed below: