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A BOY FROM VIENNA by URI ERICH SCHWARZ Cf.t.AI) 911 METE090.0S :A. i..n C'EA'.?CPAFn ': SCCETY j?i: =-6 CC.ACChI,F OF :'FTFI ?O .(I= El ~OCCI\~.~;Q!.P..I i P 0 SOX 3211 STAT CI. C) , C P 3211 S.CC-RSA-! D OTTXNA ON dlP5n7 -L-S CAI.ADA A BOY FROM VIENNA The early life of URI ERlCH SCHWARZ TABLE OF CONTENTS (linked in blue) List of photographs …………….................................. (iv) Foreword .................................................................... (v) Book One – Vienna ...................................................... 1 (Chapters 1-6) Book Two – From Italy to Palestine …….................... 45 (Chapters 7-1 4) Book Three – Egypt and the Western Desert ............ 85 (Chapters 15-20) Book Four – The Persian Gulf ................................. 149 (Chapters 21 -26) Book Five – Iran and Return to the Levant .............. 195 (Chapters 27-31) Book Six – Jerusalem and Lydda Airport ................ 231 (Chapters 32-35) Afterword ................................................................. (vii) (iii) List of photographs (linked in blue) 1. Grandfather (on mother's side) Moritz Teller, in his seventies (Bsenez, Czech Republic, early 1900s) 2. Mother, Stefanie Teller, in her twenties (Vienna, early 1900s) 3. Aunt, Anna Teller-Blau with husband Adolf Blau and daughter Erika (Grado, Italy, early 1900s) 4. Father, Ernst Schwarz, Lieutenant in the Austrian-Hungarian Army, age about 40 (WWI, about 1916) 5. Erich, four years old, on summer holiday with Dad and Mum (now Herr and Frau Professor) and (Step) Sister Hedi and family friends (Gars, Austria, 1924) 6. (Step)Sister Hedi at about 25 (Vienna, early 1930s) 7. (Step)Brother Walter with wife Helene (Vienna, 1964) 8. Niece Susi Schoenwiese (Hedi's daughter), age five (Vienna, 1936) 9. Gitta Deutsch, Erich's first girl friend, at age 14 (Vienna, 1938) 10. Gitta's father, Otto Erich Deutsch, famous Schubert expert (Deutsch Catalogue) (Vienna, 1960s) 11. Erich, just before leaving Vienna, barely 18 (Vienna, 1938) 12. Mother, a year after Erich left Vienna (Vienna, 1939) 13. Erich (on left) going down steps of Haifa's Technion (Technical University) (Haifa, Palestine, 1939) 14. Corporal Erich Schwarz, Royal Air Force (1943) 15. On road to set up new RAF weather office (Erich standing in middle) (1943) 16. Ruth, Erich's future (first) wife at age 17 (Kvuzat Schiller, Palestine, 1941) 17. Uri, painted by Z. Tadmor (Holon, about 1953) 18. Uri Schwarz, Chief Meteorology Section of the International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) (Montreal, about 1970) (iv) Man muesste wieder sechzehn Jahre sein und alles was seitdem geschah vergessen. Man muesste wieder seltne Blumen pressen FOREWORD und (weil man waechst) sich an der Tuere messen und auf dem Schulweg in die Tore schrein. It has been some 15 years since I first sat down to put these memories on paper - or actually on a computer diskette, already (One should be able to be once again sixteen - even then my favourite writing tool. In retrospect, I am glad I wrote to press rare flowers into books upon the floor, to gauge one's growing height against the bedroom door, them then, because today I might not be able to remember all the and on the way to school shout into every store - details of my early days that seemed to pour out of my memory. and should be able to forget all in-between.)* So, here we are, with some 35 chapters covering only the first 30 years of my life. But they were years crowded with happenings: emigration, first to Italy, then Palestine, the outbreak of the Second World War, my joining the (British) Royal Air Force, becoming a meteorologist, and serving all over the Middle East, from Egypt to the Persian Gulf. The later chapters cover the post-war years, my progress as a meteorologist, getting married, the death of my young wife after only four years, and the death of my mother, who was killed in the Holocaust. BOOK ONE The memoirs in this volume may tell you a lot about what happened to me, but perhaps not too much about who or what I am. Mark Twain said: "a biography can describe the buttons and cuff-links of the man, but not the man." You be the judge whether VIENNA he was right! * Free translation from Erich Kaestner's poem: "Existence im WiederhohmgsJalle" (Existence in the Case of Repeat Performance) Man muesste wieder sechzehn Jahre sein und alles was seitdem geschah vergessen. Man rnuesste wieder seltne Blumen pressen und (weil man waechst) sich an der Tuere messen und auf dem Schulweg in die Tore schrein. (One should be able to be once again sixteen - to press rare flowers into books upon the floor, to gauge one's growing height against the bedroom door, and on the way to school shout into every store - and should be able to forget all in-between.)* BOOK ONE VIENNA * Free translation from Erich Kaestner's poem: "Existence im Wiederhohmngsfalle" (Existence in the Case of Repeat Performance) con~mittalvoice, but as he now spoke Italian, it already sounded a little friendlier. "But that is not my business." Then he turned to the two Nazi women and asked to see their baptismal certificates. "Why should we have brought those with us?" they asked in astonishment. The official explained that all Austrians had to have them to establish their background. The women protested that their Nazi insignia testi- fied to their Arian descent and background, but to no avail. They were loudly cursing Italy and Mussolini as they were led out towards the other side of the station, where the train back to Austria stood. And I am sure I saw a smile on the official's face! As we climbed back into the train, I was not only relieved, but also impressed by the humanity and decency of Italians, an impres- sion that was to be renewed over and over again. The official stance was, of course, another thing, but for hundreds of years Italians had learned to live under oppressive rulers, both domestic and foreign. Indeed, the Mafia arose in such circumstances, as native Sicilians banded together against the Norman, German, Arab, French and Mainland Italian occupiers. On a more positive note, the series of oppressive regimes in Italy has produced a general spirit of helpful- ness and kindness among the Italian masses, particularly the workers and lower paid officials. The bourgeoisie and aristocracy are differ- ent, but isn't that the case in many countries? I certainly noticed it in France, particularly outside Paris. Herr Hemala and I managed to get very little sleep on the rest of the journey. We mostly watched the mists rising from the fir-clad slopes of the Southern Alps. When daylight came, Yugoslav border guards boarded and sealed the train as it passed for a few hours through the northwestern part of Yugoslav territory. As no one was allowed to get on or off, there was no need for passport or customs control, which was a relief. There is little in my memory about our arrival in Fiume. I must have been very tired after all the excitement and the nearly sleepless night, but I do remember that, despite the cramped conditions in the house of Herr Hemala's daughter, I slept long and soundly. When I awoke the next morning, 1 immediately sent a telegram to my mother, announcing my safe arrival. We had earlier agreed on a code for the telegram, in which I would indicate the degree of dillicul~y\vc. encountered in crossing the border - easy, difficult or very dillicult. I used the "difficult" version, leaving Herr Hemala to 1.Grandfather (on mother's side) Moritz Teller, in his fill in the details on his return to Vienna. seventies (Bsenez, Chech Republic, early 1900s) breath, and in between did its best to swallow the unwanted abundance. When released, the goose waddled away with an air of injured dignity. As a result of this force feeding, the geese developed huge livers, which hrnished a Jewish-type offoie gras. This, together with the goose fat in which the foie gras was prepared, provided CHAPTER 1 delicious sandwiches throughout the winter. When visiting my grandpa~entsin their new place, I was already a little older and loved to terrorize the cats in the house and the yard. v-v-very .. ah . .. nice boy," stammered my fifteen year I enjoyed pulling their tails. They soon learned to scuny up the old sister Hedi when they brought her to my mother's nearest tree whenever they saw me approaching. My grandparents "A hospital room to see her new little brother. Of course, were of course also older, and I remember my grandfather only as an everybody broke out laughing because the poor girl obviously had to old man with a gray beard, dozing in the sun, and my grandmother as make quite an effort to praise my looks. a little bent old lady, with a kerchief around her head. She always "You had long black hair and a wizened old face when they first wanted to kiss me, but the kerchief and the moustache-like hairs near brought you to me," my mother used to tell me, "and you held your her mouth made me shy. When I ran away, she would follow me, chin in your hand with a sad expression as if you wanted to say, 'why offering a shilling for a kiss. That, of course, usually did the trick. The on earth did you bring me into this world?'" sweets I bought with the shilling in the little village grocery made an But my parents seemed to be anything but sad about their first, unwelcome kiss quite worthwlule. and as far as my mother was concerned, only baby.

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