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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Keep In Touch ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OFF PRINT with changed layout, two extra photos and where necessary updated by Erdmuthe Arnold

The first part was published in English (and German) in KIT Newsletter Vol XVII No. 3 November 2005

(pages 8-18); second part only in English, in KIT Newsletter Vol XVIII No. 1 January 2006 (pages 7-17)

THE STORY OF MY LIFE IN A CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY By Wilhelm Fischer

I would like to precede my memories with the verse of a song:

“Ich bin durch die Welt gegangen, und die Welt ist schön und

groß, und doch ziehet ein Verlangen, mich weit von der Erde

los.” (“I have travelled through the World, and the World is

lovely and is large; but still a great longing draws me far away

from this Earth.”)

That’s how most of us will remember the Fischer family in Prima-

vera. From the left: Friedrich, Lucrezia, Markus, Lini with Mat-

thias, and Wilhelm with Giovanni (missing: Johanna, Ludwig, and

Willhelm jun./Guillermo). The picture was taken about six months

before Wilhelm and Lini were sent to England with the youngest

four children 1960. All together 176 Bruderhof people from Prima-

vera and El Arado were booked on the Virgin overseas flight with

Varig on August 23, from Rio de Janeiro to Germany and England.

During the past 25 years we have met many of our old friends

and acquaintances, and have spoken of our lives and all the expe-

riences we have been through together. Many repeatedly ex-

pressed the wish that these memories should be put in writing be-

fore they are lost forever. So I wrote down my memories, which

by no means claim to give a full picture of our past.

At the age of six, I had an experience that was to be decisive

for my life. It lead me during my youth, aged 14 – 17 to join the

Editorial note: This report is a transcript of a hand-written

manuscript by Wilhelm Fischer, written at the age of 72 – in

1986. It has been transcribed and edited by Erdmuthe Arnold,

and translated by Linda Lord-Jackson. The photos are mostly

thanks to the supply of Albums by Erna and Werner Friedemann

as well as Ludwig and Irene Fischer (now Pfeiffer). Irene also

contributed to the identification and notes with the photographs.

Christian life in Community. I then devoted over 31 years of my

life to them. They aimed to prove that an entirely different way

of life on earth is possible.

It happened during 1920/21, after World War I. In Germany

civil war broke out, and the worrying question was: who was go-

ing to rule the country? As a small child, I saw some men, strug-

gling to drag a two wheel cart through the streets, it was full to

overflowing with bodies of victims of the war. It was such a

shocking sight, that even today, at 72 years old, I can see it clear-

ly before me. Also the soldiers who survived the terrible war, re-

turned with stories of heroic deeds and exploits, bragging about

what they had done to the so called enemy. This instigated the

young boys to play war games too. In fact up to 200 of them

from Ost- and West-Eisenach went into the Ziegelwald woods

and fraught each other with all imaginable weapons, including

fire arms even. The dead must be lamented. The Police and Mili-

tary had to intervene in order to end the fighting.

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH

I was born in Eisenach / Thüringen on 28th January 1914, the

first son of Reinhold and Anna Fischer, two younger brothers

followed. I went to school between the ages of 7 and 14, fol-

lowed by a three year apprenticeship as a salesman. Straight after

that, in 1931, I became unemployed and shared the fate of the

masses – during the time between the two World Wars. There

just wasn’t any work.

My father was also in at war for four years, he hardly ever

spoke about it. He was posted to the Cavalry, and returned unin-

jured. We lived in the town centre, but in 1921 moved to the out-

skirts in a house that belonged to one of my father’s brothers. My

father was a farmer and a black-smith. His ancestors lived on the

same farm for over 400 years, and always learned a second trade

like black-smith or weapon manufacture etc. After the move, we

had more room in the house, as well as a large garden. Food was

very scarce and basic. My cousins built a large wire cage in the

garden into which we could lure sparrows, so that we could catch

them. They served as a good addition to the meagre, short ra-

tions, and tasted alright. What one won’t do when suffering

pangs of hunger! My father worked in the only big factory in Ei-

senach, which manufactured bicycles, motor bikes and later also

cars. Today it is Wartburg-Hersteller, the biggest car factory in

the DDR (German Democratic Republic).

At the weekends before we moved, my father used to cycle

20 kilometres to his brothers, who still had farms, to help them

out. He always returned with a rucksack full of edible goodies. In

later years, after 1923, each Autumn on the farm a fatted pig

would be slaughtered, and prepared as meat, sausages, lard,

brawn and some would be smoked; so we always had enough

meat until the following year. As a ten year old I used to look

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forward to going there with my father. We set off pulling a four

wheeled cart. In the summer holidays I was also allowed to

spend one or two weeks with my uncles on their farms. One of

my uncles worked as horseman for a brewery in Eisenach. He

was away for one or two weeks with his large horse drawn wag-

on delivering beer to all the villages. I was allowed to go along

with him, to hold the reigns and drive and guide the two big

horses. Often my uncle would go to sleep behind the driver’s

seat; I was a little apprehensive now and then when we came to a

steep hill. At the same time I was proud to be able to reign in and

stop the horses.

After the move to the outskirts of Eisenach, we were only a

few minutes away from the joining of the rivers Hörsel and

Nesse. In summer it was near enough to go swimming, and in

winter we could ski and play ice-hockey. Strangely enough at the

junction of the two rivers, the Nesse froze, but the Hörsel never

did – not even in the worst winter, at over 20° below freezing. So

we could ride the ice floes. We would saw or chop off large

pieces of ice, on the Hörsel. Then one or two of us would stand

on the ice-floe and glide slowly on the current to a weir, much

further down. We had to be very careful not to get driven over

the weir. This was a very daring and dangerous thing to do, but

great fun. We could also learn to ski, on the steep hill nearby. We

even built our own ski-jump out of snow, and made our own

skis. We used the curved wooden panels from the sides of the big

beer barrels. They were well and it was good fun.

The years 1923/24 brought us inflation. Money no longer had

any value. Every day, when my father got home from work, he

asked how the Mark was valued today according to the paper.

Every days wage would be spent straight away. My father usual-

ly went right out again to do the shopping before the shops shut,

because the next day he would only get half as much for his

money. For example: 1. In December 1923 one had to pay 100

million Marks for a letter within Germany. 2. Two women set off

to go shopping with a laundry basket full of bank notes. The bas-

ket had a cover for protection from the wind. They put it down in

front of a shop while they checked out the prices. Just at that

moment someone came by, saw the basket, emptied out the bank

notes, and took the basket. It was worth more than the bank

notes.

In those years my father took on a second job. He looked af-

ter a large piece of land, which had belonged to a well to do man,

now deceased. His wife and sister still lived in the villa. As the

eldest son, I had to work hard helping him after school and at the

weekends. I found that very hard sometimes, especially in the

summer, when all my school friends could go off and play. But it

did earn me my first bicycle!

The property cultivated many varieties of apples as well as

pears, cherries, plums, quinces, walnuts and hazelnuts; also

many varieties of berries. We established a large vegetable gar-

den. Some rabbits lived in a small wooded area. In the autumn

we would hunt them with a ferret. This provided us with many a

good meal.

There were many meadows between the trees, and the hay

had to be cut twice a year by hand with a scythe. The property

was situated by a steep cliff. From our new home we could get

there quite quickly by bicycle. Taking care of the property was of

course a great help financially in these hard times. We had pri-

vate customers in town. With a big basket on my back I would

deliver their orders.

In comparison to many schools and teaching methods of that

period, my schooling was under very strict discipline. That didn’t

do me any harm. I was only punished once, in religion in year

three. I had not done my home work, or read and learned the set

passage. I had to stand for half an hour, arms outstretched, and

holding up a 1 lb weight in each hand. If they started to sink, my

hands were rapped with a stick. This didn’t exactly endear this

subject for me. But overall we had well structured and organised

schooling. I was able to make good use of it after leaving school

in later life. It helped me find my feet in various occupations. We

were well taught, particularly in the many practical subjects we

took.

I left school in March 1928. Next was my confirmation in the

Protestant-Luther church. I did it for my parents, although I pro-

tested strongly against it. What I saw in the lives of the ministers

and their spiritual followers, did not agree with what they

preached from the pulpit.

At the age of 14, I was not really sure what profession I

wanted to pursue. A cousin of mine worked for a newspaper, so

at first I thought about a apprenticeship in publishing. Unfortu-

nately my poor school reports, especially in spelling and gram-

mar made that impossible. In the paper there was an advert for an

apprentice in a factory producing, amongst other things, electric

switch-boxes. I went along and applied, and got the apprentice-

ship. The factory was very handy, only 30 metres away from our

home. The apprenticeship was for three years, and included ac-

countancy, calculations and administration, and also a twice

weekly visit to business college during working hours. At the

same time I took evening classes in shorthand and typing.

During this time I joined a Christian youth group for boys

and girls. We met twice a week in the evening. My apprentice-

ship was not physically demanding, so I also went to a swim-

ming club in the evening. So I had something to do every night

of the week. Weekends were spent with the youth group out and

about, either cycling or hiking. I spent four years with this group.

For me, as for many others, these were important and decisive

years. We helped each other, and gave each other the strength to

cope in the difficult and sometimes painful teenage years. This

was confirmed for me in 1969 when my wife Lini and I drove to

Eisenach. After 35 years, I met some friends of my youth. They

all said this time had been important and valuable for them too,

in the course of their future lives. The relationship between boys

and girls had been pure, clean and respectful, quite different than

it is today.

These were the turbulent years, before Hitler came to power.

The youth group protested against Hitler’s tyranny, and produced

a play they wanted to perform in the town’s theatre, but their ap-

plication to do so was refused. So the performance took place in

the biggest Hall in Eisenach. That was in 1930. Already at this

time, on first nights, members of the SA would position them-

selves everywhere in the audience. I played the role of Nebu-

chadnezzar, the cruel ruler of Babylon. Under the leadership of

Martin Niemöller the professed Christians also protested in Ei-

senach at that time against the Hitler regime. Niemöller was a

protestant theologian in Berlin-Dahlem, and submarine com-

mander during World War I. I heard him give a talk once at

Wartburg. The Christian working class poet Woicke also came to

Eisenach. Through his poems he protested against Nazism with

such words as; “We would never bow our heads or bend our

knees to other human beings, but only to God.”

In April 1931 I completed my apprenticeship. I was dis-

missed immediately. It was during the years of great unemploy-

ment, many millions of men could not find work. I tried many

places, but it was all in vain. Many young people committed sui-

cide, including a friend of my cousin. The 23 year old was told

by his employer he was too old for the job. When he responded

by asking what he was supposed to do, he was snarled at: “Get a

rope!” That is what he did two weeks later, and hanged himself.

Such events made me think deeply about our existence on earth

and the purpose of life. My father had also been dismissed to-

wards the end of the ’20s, but as already mentioned, he was able

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to look after a large garden, and had plenty to do. So I helped

him with this job.

LIVING IN COMMUNITY IN EISENACH

In Eisenach I soon got in contact with a pious Christian organi-

sation, the Möttlinger. Their example was the Christian message

of Blumhardt, who called on everyone to follow Jesus Christ.

This gave me a new anchor and purpose in life, and the strength

to carry on. Soon after this we began to ask ourselves if it could

be possible to live in community together, as it says in the Ser-

mon on the Mount. In practical terms that would mean that we

would share everything we own. No sooner said than done, we

decided to give it a try. In November, 20 of us began our shared

life in Christian community. A good, kind man, a senior Civil

Servant made available to us a large piece of land on a hill on the

outskirts of town. The land had on it a large house, animal stalls

and other smaller buildings; many fruit trees as well as arable

land. We were all poor and had some hard work to tackle, but we

set too with enthusiasm and confidence.

The first fields we prepared ready for the spring time. Ten of

us men all in a row dug up the stony ground with our spades. We

bought two milking cows, which were also used to pull the

plough and other equipment. I was given the job of looking after

them. I learned to milk them, to plough, and to drive the cart the

cows pulled into town to collect sand and building materials.

Many of us, including myself, were vegetarians, so we concen-

trated on building up our vegetable production, for our own use

as well as to sell. Compost was produced by the Rudolf-Steiner

method.

In 1933 a large henhouse was built, and our community grew

to 80 people. They came from all walks of life. Our community

was led by Bernhard Jansa, who was also our preacher, and still

held a job as a librarian. Not all who joined held Christian beliefs

and this made community living difficult at times.

Not everyone could be accommodated on our piece of land,

so a second place, with a garden and fields was set up in the

Thüringer Wald near Gotha. In a third place, to the south of Ei-

senach most of the single women were accommodated. They

produced craft work items for sale. The responsibility for this

place was taken on by a 40 year old couple who had no children.

The man was once a minister in the catholic high church, which

he left in 1930 and married soon after that. His wife was a talent-

ed craftswoman who built up the craft business.

Our community also worked together with the youth deten-

tion centre in Eisenach, and took in some youngsters on their re-

lease. We hoped to give the young people the chance of a new

start; something that would have been very hard for them if left

to their own devices in these difficult times with so much unem-

ployment.

In the Autumn of 1933, the communal buildings and grounds

were surrounded by Hitler’s SA Troops. They assumed that we

were communists and behaved as though they already represent-

ed the government and the highest authority. They did not find

what they were looking for, and could find no evidence for their

suspicions. It was a very unpleasant experience.

On the 31st December 1933, many of us went to the Georgs

Kirche in the market place to listen to Johann Sebastian Bach’s

Oratorio. It finished just before the start of the New Year 1934.

As we left the church we witnessed a terrible sight at the other

side of the square. A hands on street battle (slaughter) between

Nazis and Communists. At the same time, from the church tow-

er, a brass band blasted out “Nun danket alle Gott” (“Now thank

we all our God”). This devastation contrast was enacted in front

of our very eyes.

In 1934 even more people joined our community, in March

there were over 100 of us. However the practicalities of living

together became more and more difficult, as the question of

leadership arose. The all too dear, kind, sweet but slippery for-

mer Catholic clergyman went round trying to get everyone on his

side, to select him as leader. He switched me off. In many meet-

ings we tried to reach a clear agreement. We had heard and knew

about the community calling itself the Rhönbruderhof, and asked

them for help. They sent two brothers. We spent the next two

days in open honest discussions in an attempt to save the good

that had come out from the year and a half of living together. But

this attempt failed, and we left going separate ways. This was a

very hard and sad blow for most of us. Eight of our members de-

cided to go to the Bruderhof in the Rhön, which could by now

look back on 14 years of community living.

IN THE VOLUNTARY LABOUR CAMP

I myself initially made a different decision, and in doing so was

very disappointed. I had heard of the Voluntary Labour Camp, in

which one could work on the land or in the forests. I did not want

to return to the normal life in society, and under pressure from

the now governing Nazi regime I signed up for a year with the

Voluntary Labour Camp. Their base was 30 kilometres away

from Eisenach; it accommodated over thousand young men of

17-25 and older.

I very soon realised that the base camp was run on military

lines. One was stuffed into a uniform, and from early in the

morning one had to take part in tough military training which

lasted all day. We only spent about four hours each day on the

actual projects, like improving / constructing a drainage system

etc. In the evenings vicious Nazi songs were drummed into us;

songs against their enemies and anyone who did not agree with

the Nazi party; songs about their New Germany. Within four

days I had decided not to complete my year’s Voluntary Service.

By now I had also heard from others, that after this Voluntary

year, one was committed to joining up for Military Service. For

the first time I experienced what it was like to get into the

clutches of a dictatorship.

One morning at call up, I saw a young lad with a thick bloody

bandage on his head. I asked someone what had happened to

him. The answer: “He was hunted down during the night, be-

cause two nights previously he had run away. He could not stand

the camp anymore and did not want to take part in the Military

training. This happens quite often. The escapees would be pur-

sued, brought back, beaten and tortured.”

I decided that day to write a letter immediately to the

Rhönbruderhof. I asked if I could continue my agricultural train-

ing and work on the farm with them. That was a very dangerous

thing to do, because all mail was censored. However I did actual-

ly get a reply. One day after the morning parade, I was handed a

letter, while I was still in line, standing to attention. It was a let-

ter from Eberhard Arnold himself. He answered that yes they did

indeed urgently need people to work on the farm, especially with

the impending hay harvest.

After drill I went straight to the Camp Commander and told

him of this invitation. I asked him exactly what I had to do in or-

der to take up this offer of training to work on the farm. He read

the letter, and agreed that it did sounded good. By coincidence

the Camp Commander was a good friend of a Kurt Fischer, and

asked me if I knew him. He was referring to my cousin, who

worked for a paper in Eisenach. The Commander looked furtive-

ly around, then said: “As far as I am concerned you can go, but

you must report to Head Quarters in Eisenach.”

I got a permit to leave the Camp. I took my uniform to the

store, where my bicycle and personal belongings were returned

to me. As fast as I could I cycled to Eisenach and to my parents.

The next day I went to Head Quarters and showed the official

there the certificate from the Camp Commander and with it the

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letter from Eberhard Arnold. What I heard then, and the names I

was called does not bear repeating, it was awful. In the end the

official threatened: “You bounders and scoundrels, in October

we will get you all back when compulsory Military Service be-

gins.” He got out my personal card, and stamped across it in

large letters: “Deserter”. At that time that amounted to being put

before the firing squad.

This motivated me into hurrying to get my permit made up;

which proved to be rather difficult, as I was only 20, and not eli-

gible until I was 21. My father gave his written consent, so after

a lot of back and forth my permit was finally handed over to me.

Two more weeks and I could get away. I took my bike and rode

straight to the Bruderhof. As the eldest son, leaving my parents

was a hard and serious decision. The words of the Bible: ’Leave

your father and your mother and follow me’ gave me the faith

and the strength to do so. My dear mother had a deep inner un-

derstanding for me, especially because my two younger brothers

had already been drawn into the Hitler Youth. During these years

I never once raised my hand in a “Heil Hitler“-salute. It was

clear to me that this man was never going to give us a better

Germany.

The Gable House (Giebelhaus) was newly built when Wilhelm ar-

rived on the Rhönbruderhof. It was paid with Hans Boller’s money.

The laundry and sewing room occupied the ground floor of the two

story house. To the right one can see a part of the bakery house.

ON THE RHÖNBRUDERHOF

With a fully laden bike and a guitar on my back it took me a day

to get to the Rhönbruderhof, where I was lovingly greeted and

made welcome. There I also met my brothers and sisters from

our first attempt at community. After supper I told of my dread-

ful experiences in the camp, and said that I would probably be

called up for Military Service in October. I got the answer: “We

will deal with that together.”

I was deeply impressed when I met Swiss, Swedish, English

and Scottish people on the Bruderhof. As I had experience of

milking cows, I was put to work in the cow stall, where so far

Peter Mathis had to do the milking and care for the twelve cows

on his own. Peter soon made it clear to me that my method was

much too slow. He showed me a new way by using my thumbs.

This took a bit of getting used to, and was at first quite painful.

After four weeks it was like a celebration for Peter and his fami-

ly, for he could take a Sunday off, as I was there to stand in for

him.

There were also two goats whose milk was reserved for the

babies. During Spring and Summer the cows were put out to pas-

ture in various meadows, and someone had to go along as cow-

herd. On one occasion it was the turn of a clueless Englishman

from the city to take the cows out after their morning milking. As

The Rhönbruderhof seen from above the Küppel.

he drove them back to the cow stall, they found the lush green

grass at the roadside, he let them have their fill, as he was una-

ware what the consequences would be. When they arrived at the

stalls, the cows were bloated and full of wind. It was clear to us

that the cows had got into the flowering clover field. It was diffi-

cult, although exciting rescuing the cows and getting them back

in. They were rubbed down with straw, and chased around the

farm as fast as possible. Fortunately we didn’t lose any of the an-

imals.

It did not take long before I was accepted into the novitiate,

and could take part in the inner, spiritual meetings. I also worked

in the fields which was really hard work, because the soil on the

Rhön-Height was poor and stony.

The community was watched closely by the Nazis. The com-

ings and goings were all recorded. It was a serious and decisive

time. Many new people came to join us. Round about July 1934

the Hitler Party ordered all of us Germans to bring our Identity

cards and prove that we were true Aryan German stock. One of

my dear relatives took on the time consuming task of producing

a family tree of all my ancestors for me. So I had written proof

that my predecessors were genuine Aryan German stock. They

had lived on the same farm for 400 years, and it had been inher-

ited and passed on from one generation to the next.

A wonderful landscape and new friends welcomed Wilhelm on the

Rhönbruderhof. 1935 Erna Steenken (Friedemann) and Moni Barth

were taking care of the small children in the so called Babystall.

Looking back these seven months at the Rhönbruderhof were ex-

tremely hard. There were 120 people to be provided for. Food

was short. For instance we had only one slice of bread a day, of-

ten only sparingly spread. For breakfast we had porridge made

with water and salt. There was no milk or sugar. Whoever sur-

vived this, and the hard work, must have been serious about liv-

ing in community.

In the Autumn I volunteered to assist with the task of harvest-

ing thick moss from the edge of the woods. It was needed to line

5

This picture was taken 1935 in front of the dining room in the Main

House – it was the year in which Eberhard Arnold unexpectedly

died on November 22. The grownups from left: Moni Barth, Hardy

Arnold with his son Eberhard-Claus, John Jory with Jonnie Mason,

Mary Richards (wife of Leyton Richards), and Emmy Arnold. The

children: Christoph Boller, Stephan, Klaus and Jörg Barth, Hans-

Uli Boller, Sanna Kleiner and Heidi Zumpe.

the stall for the cows, because the straw was needed for feeding

them. This was the hardest of jobs, it involved a row of ten men,

working their way forward, gathering the moss. To compensa-

tion we were allowed something extra for breakfast. I was also

able to benefit from the fact that the left over porridge was fed to

the calves. I would collect the bucket from the kitchen, then

would first satisfy my own hunger.

The next thing was the potato harvest. After that I ploughed

the fields. I got two young Oxen to pull the two harrows through

the fields. The Bruderhof was delighted that in 1934, for the first

time, we had all the fields prepared ready for sowing in the

Spring, before Winter set in.

NEXT: THE ALMBRUDERHOF IN LIECHTENSTEIN

After Christmas I was accepted into the brotherhood, and asked

if I would be willing to go to Liechtenstein to the Almbruderhof

near Silum. About 60 people lived there, and I would train in the

wood turning department. The reason for this was the fact that I

had been marked as a deserter. Of course I agreed, I celebrated

the 31st of December 1934 at the Rhönbruderhof until midnight,

and then said my good-byes that very same night. I was taken to

Schlüchtern by horse and cart. There I got an express train via

Lindau across the German-Swiss border to Buchs. It was a fa-

vourable time to do this; for who is going to be fully alert after a

night of drinking and partying? The overnight journey tired me

out completely; as I waited with apprehensive anticipation of

what might happen at the border. But all was well, the border pa-

trol noticed nothing. I was met in Buchs, and taken 1600 meters

up the mountain, where I was joyfully welcomed by the commu-

nity.

They were also very pleased that I was able to take care of

and milk the two cows the community had. I slept above the cow

stall in a room used to store the hay. It was a summer hut used by

the cowherds when they brought their cattle up the mountain to

graze. The gaps and cracks had been filled with moss to keep out

the cold winds. The temperature in the room was actually quite

pleasant, due to the warmth coming up from the cows.

I started an apprenticeship as a turner with Fritz Kleiner. He

just said: “Watch what I do carefully, then try to do it yourself.”

There were two lathes at our disposal. The things we produced

were also sold in Switzerland. We supplied orders as they came

in, but fulfilling special requests too. The turnery was one of the

best sources of income for the Almbruderhof.

Three years earlier than Wilhelm Fischer, in 1931, Erna Steenken

(second from the left) came as an orphan to the Rhönbruderhof – at

the age of thirteen. She was soon part of her school class; one of the

girls was Monika Arnold Trümpi (second from the right). The oth-

ers were children from the Bruderhof children’s home. Monika re-

membered their names: Lilly, Edgar Zimmermann and Karl-Heinz

Schulze.

The community occupied a large Health Resort Building. Further

up the mountain were about three large huts also available for

their use and a well with fresh spring water. So we were well

supplied with clear pure mountain water. The hut with the cow

stall stood on its own further down than the Health Resort Build-

ing, and below that was another hut which was used as a dwell-

ing as well as for storing hay.

Since my arrival on 1st January 1935, there had been very lit-

tle snow. That changed drastically on the 1st day of February.

During the night a storm raged that whistled through all the

cracks in the cow stall hut. When I looked through the little win-

dow in the morning, everything was covered in snow. I got on

with my work, fed and milked the cows, and then wanted to get

to the main house with the milk churn on my back. The door of

the hut opened outwards. I used all my strength, but could not

open it with the mass of snow piled up outside. It was no wonder

– 1.80 meters of snow had fallen. So I shouted through the win-

dow for help, and eventually was heard. It took two hours until

the people from the main house could dig a path through to the

hut. The families in the other huts were also snowed in.

On the Almbruderhof: Children group on a walk with two sisters.

Behind them is one of several summer cottages. In these some fami-

lies lived also during the wintertime.

6

Trudi and Wal-

ter Hüssy were

sent to the Alm-

bruderhof with

their twins

Bastel and

Franz soon af-

ter the place

was started.

Their youngest

son David was

born in Liech-

tenstein Febru-

ary 25th, 1936.

The picture was

taken 1937 in

front of the

Kurhaus Silum.

On questioning,

Elisabeth

Bohlken-Zumpe

said that Trudi

was needed

urgently as

teacher, and

Walter built up

the big Garden

down in the val-

ley near Triesenberg. Like Walter, all the Swiss members were also

asked to sell products in Switzerland, because it was easier for them

to get the necessary permits.

On this particular day, a horse drawn sledge from Triesenberg,

fully laden with provisions, was going to tackle the climb to the

Almbruderhof, a difference in altitude of 600 Meters. There was

hardly any food left in the house. There was just enough bread

for the children. Fortunately the telephone was still working, and

Mr Beck, who was bringing the provisions, said he hoped to be

at the cross roads by 2 or 3 pm. Men and horse drawn snow

ploughs were ready to clear the main road from Triesenberg to

Malbun. So the whole household, including children over 10

years old, set off from the Bruderhof to clear our road to the

crossroads – that is if they could find it under the great mass of

snow. Fortunately the sun came out at 11 o’clock and by 2

o’clock the road was clear.

Then there was a terrible noise from the top of the mountain.

An avalanche came crashing down over the rocks. Trees were

ripped up as if they were blades of grass. We had our hands full

getting ourselves and the children and sisters to safety. The ava-

lanche had cut off 30 metres of the road to the Main House with

a hard packed mountain of snow. It was obvious that the horse

drawn sledge could not get through in these conditions, it was

much too dangerous. So we all had to carry what we could in our

hand or on our backs across the massive avalanche. The children

then shuttled the food on sledges up to the main house. Night

was about to draw in by the time we had got everything there.

At the beginning of March 1935, the community heard from

a reliable source, that compulsory Military Service for all young

men would be enforced. Six young men at the Rhönbruderhof

were affected. Individually and by various routes, including by

bicycle, they all came across the border to us in Liechtenstein,

before the deadline for Military Service was reached.

During this year we built a greenhouse to the front of the

main house. Rocks were blasted out so that it could be set well

into the hillside for protection from storms. Down in the Rhine

valley the community got a piece of land which was mainly

planted with vegetables. Every day, in the morning and at night,

an altitude difference of 1100 metres had to be negotiated to get

there and then to get home again. For us men this was quite a

challenge. It was some compensation to be able to enjoy the

wonderful Alpine scenery, which one could see from the heights,

in the most glorious of weather. Below us, the thick cloud cover,

meant the people down there had to contend with rain or even

snow. The Föhnwinde (strong Alpine winds) were unbelievable

as they swept along with a strength that made one wonder if the

main house could possibly stand the strain. In the joists of the

wooden structure it groaned everywhere.

EXCURSIONS UP INTO THE MOUNTAINS

Whenever we got the chance the young people went on excur-

sions higher up the mountains. We even went as far as the Aus-

trian border, over in the Malbun valley, and on into the Samina

valley. Here we found a place where our yodeling echoed back

and forth to us five times! That was fantastic!

One Sunday we set off to climb the Drei Schwestern (Three

Sisters) at a height of 2120 metres. There was just a narrow track

of 1 - 1.5 metres winding up the Fürstensteig mountainside, on

the right the rock face rose almost vertically above us. Attached

to the rock at this side was a strong steel rope. On the left it

dropped steeply straight down to the Rhine valley below. Often

hikers would try to tackle this climb, but soon turned back. We

managed to get from the second to the third peak of the ‘Sisters’.

To do this we had to clamber over an iron ladder placed horizon-

tally across a ravine. It must have been a good 10 meters long,

without any railings at the side to hold on to. Two of the group

got across, they had to get down on all fours. There were two

girls with us, Gertrud and Erna. They were really brave. I was

the first to go across, then Werner. He got to the middle, then I

The Bruderhof youth liked to climb in the mountains. This is the

Fürstenstieg where Wilhelm Fischer and others had their dangerous

adventures trying to get to the top of the Three Sisters. These are

situated on the left next to where a man is standing on the pathway.

7

Just to add some more pictures from the Almbruderhof time: Hans-

Hermann Arnold and Gertrud Löffler were engaged there in Au-

gust 1936. Behind them the Main House (Kurhaus Silum).

saw his face go white. I called to him “Lie down flat and shut

your eyes, don’t look down into the valley below, and take deep

breaths”. One of the others came from behind him, and I got to

the front, and we pushed and pulled Werner slowly back as he

lay on the ladder. We were so relieved and thankful that nothing

more serious had happened to us. We had intended to return on

the other side, via the Samina and Malbun valleys, and through

the tunnel. But unfortunately we then had to return the same way

as we had come.

On another occasion, in the Spring, we went up the

Fürstensteig. We thought the snow had all gone, but when we

were about half way up we came across a mass of snow piled

right across the track. The steel rope was buried deep beneath the

snow. The first three managed to get across ok, then it was Er-

na’s turn. As she reached the middle, the snow started to move.

The steep drop to the valley was only three or four metres away.

I was next in line, and called out to her to lie down flat. With the

others behind me holding hands, we quickly made a human

chain, the last one holding onto the steel rope. Very slowly I

managed to inch my way nearer to Erna, and get hold of one of

her hands. She grasped tight with both hands. It was important

that Erna kept her feet absolutely still while we gradually pulled

her up. Finally she moved her feet to help; this movement de-

tached the snow below her and sent it hurtling down the moun-

tain side to the valley below. We all breathed a sigh of relief

when Erna was safely back on firm land. But we didn’t give up,

we dug out more and more of the remaining snow until we had

made a firm path which we could cross to get to the other side,

where we discovered that this had been the only place where

there was still any snow on this path.

MORE ABOUT WORK AT THE ALMBRUDERHOF

The workforce in the turnery was considerably increased now, so

a night shift was introduced before the hay harvest was due to

commence. Each of the rented houses and huts had their share of

meadows. The magnificence of the flowers in these Alpine

meadows is indescribable; such an abundance of different varie-

ties cannot be found anywhere else in the world. These meadows

were scattered all over the slopes. In some places there were just

three square metres to be mown, and woe betide you if you occa-

sionally reached out too far with the scythe, and included some

of the neighbour’s hay. It was hard work, and some of the steeper

slopes could only be mown by wearing metal spikes on our

shoes. The hay then had to be tied into large bundles and loaded

onto our backs to be carried down to the haylofts.

Elisabeth Zumpe

(left) and Renate

Zimmermann as

three year olds on

the Almbruder-

hof.

In the Autumn,

after the hay had

been harvested,

neat cow dung

was sprinkled on-

to the meadows

from a wheel bar-

row. Doing this

was an acquired

skill. One English

man had the mis-

fortune to place

his barrow incor-

rectly on a steep

slope. He had al-

so positioned

himself on the wrong side to get the semi-liquid dung out. Then

the barrow tipped over on top of him, and barrow and man tum-

bled down the slope together. The man was well ‘dunged’ from

head to toe.

BAPTIZED, AND IN NO TIME OFF ON A “LITTLE

MISSION”

In July 1935, the founder and leader of the community, Eberhard

Arnold, came to the Almbruderhof. Six of us who had been nov-

ices for some time now, were baptised and taken into the Broth-

erhood. The baptism/Christening in childhood was not recog-

nised. For me this was a very decisive end of my past life, and

the beginning of a new era.

Soon after that Willi Klüver and I were sent off for a week on

a “Little Mission”. In Chur we tried to get a permit for Canton

Graubünden. This was turned down. So Willi suggested we go

on to Luzern, to Lini’s mother, to see if we could get a permit

there. We had a lovely time with her. We also met Jeannette Ru-

dolf (who later on married Peter Keiderling). She was nine years

old at the time. I had no idea then, that three years later, Lini’s

mother would become my mother-in-law. In retrospect I was

very glad to have had the opportunity to get to know her.

In Luzern we were given permission to sell our turnery,

books etc. and to ask for cash donations towards our communal

living. It was a humbling experience going from door to door –

we called it: “Türklinken zu putzen” (polishing door knobs). We

sang the song: “Von Luzern auf Weggis zu” (from Lucern to

Weggis) as we walked along by the Vierwaldstädter lake as far

as the Tellsplatte (William Tell Ledge) by the adjoining Urner

lake. From a financial point of view we had a very good week.

We stopped at one villa, where a distinguished lady came out and

spoke to us in English. Willi could just about understand what

she was saying. It turned out that we had before us a Mrs. Cad-

bury, a Quaker from Birmingham. The Quakers were founded by

George Fox, and had many followers in Switzerland. We met

them again and again as we went about in the various Swiss Can-

tons.

Another time I went to St. Gallen with Christian Löber. Our

main purpose was canvassing for donations and begging for

money to get another milk cow. We had lost one of ours with

flatulence. We needed to collect 400 Franks. Unfortunately it

was my fault that the cow perished. I tried to get as much milk as

possible from the cows, so all the leftovers from the kitchen were

8

saved, and fed to the cows as extra nourishment. In the height of

summer some of the leftovers must have started to go off and

ferment. We only became aware of this in the afternoon when the

cows were up in the meadows. Fritz and I tried everything we

could to pull them through, but for one it was too late. We had to

slaughter it, and drain off all the blood and the gasses. It was a

good job we did that. When the vet came out to examine the

cow, he told us that the gasses had not got into the flesh, so in

spite of our loss, we were at least grateful to be able to eat the

meat.

At one house in St. Gallen, we were received by the lady of

the house. We told her about the situation, and who we were. She

then said: “So, you are the people! I prayed to God this morning,

and asked him to send me a sign to let me know who I could help

today.” She invited us in, gave us something to eat and drink,

and handed over a cheque for 200 Francs. The lady belonged to

the Oxford-Movement. One can honestly say that God guided us

on that journey.

On the same journey, we met some people who welcomed us

with enthusiasm. We spoke about following Christ. They replied

that Christ was already here in the form of Father Divine. They

invited us to a meeting that evening. We accepted, and met up

with about twelve people all together. We listened quietly to

what they had to say. Later, in our cheap lodgings, we got out the

New Testament and looked up several references to see what it

had to say about this false God. It soon became clear to us that

we wanted nothing to do with these false prophets and their here-

sy. After that we were given a few more Francs towards our new

cow, for which we were very grateful.

On one occasion on the same journey, we went into a vege-

tarian restaurant. A good variety of food was put on the table for

us, including a little pot of water. We had no idea what this was

for, but as it was so hot outside, and as we were very thirsty, we

drank it. The people around us looked at us askance; it then

dawned on us that it was a finger bowl, for rinsing our fingers.

We were real country bumpkins!

In the Autumn of 1935 some men came from the Internation-

al Voluntary Service. They helped us to prepare the wood re-

serves for heating in the winter. They went up high onto the Al-

pine meadows, where felled trees were cut down into one metre

logs. These were then loaded onto a two wheeled box cart, and

taken down the steep and narrow track. The carts did have

brakes, but on one occasion, Erich Hasenberg stumbled over a

stone, and was unable to stop the cart, he was nearly dragged

down with it himself. The drop was about 100 metres. The cart

got stuck on some trees a bit further down, but the logs crashed

on to Gafflei and the silver fox farm at the bottom. Fortunately

no damage was done, as there were often lots of people going for

walks along the paths in the woods. That was a blessing.

During this year we frequently got grocery contributions

from the Christian Community of Esserdiner, who lived in the

West of Switzerland. We were always very grateful for these.

TWO ANECDOTES FROM THE TIME AT THE

ALMBRUDERHOF

Here is another anecdote. By the middle of November 1935 we

had already had a lot of snow right down as far down as

Triesenberg. It was frozen solid to a depth of four or five inches.

Fritz asked me: “prepare the big sledge; you are the most experi-

enced with it. Sophie Löber needs to be taken to the hospital in

Vaduz straight away.” She was expecting her first child, and had

gone into labour. The sledge had long, high stanchions at the

front, on which to secure a plank for the driver and controller to

sit on. One had to use ones feet to steer the sledge and when nec-

essary also for braking. I asked Fritz for someone to come along

to help with the braking. Werner Friedermann was chosen. It was

already going dark by the time Sophie was wrapped up with pil-

lows and blankets in the back of the sledge. Marianne Zimmer-

mann sat next to her, with Werner at the back and me in front as

driver.

As we were about to leave, Sophie’s husband Christian ar-

rived back from his travels. He was so tired and exhausted that

he stayed behind. About 300 metres before the cross roads I felt

stones underfoot. Before we could start braking, my right foot

was caught by a stone and dragged backwards, the left one fol-

lowed. I was now on my knees trying to control the sledge. I

shouted to Werner: “hang down and brake“, as there was a steep

drop on the right hand side. I was fully occupied trying to pre-

vent us plunging into the abyss. We just managed to a stop right

at the very edge. At last I could get my legs out from under the

sledge. After this scare we arrived safely in Triesenberg at the

Edelweiß, where a taxi was waiting for us. The drive down usu-

ally took us ten to fifteen minutes. But going back up again in

the snow, with the sledge on our backs, took a good hour.

On another occasion I was sent to Triesenberg after work to

get some bread. Going down was quick, as it was winter, and we

had learned from the locals how to get down the mountain at

speed. On the steep parts, you had to squat down on one foot,

holding the other leg straight up in front of you, and slide down.

But that only worked when the snow was frozen solid. With over

50 loaves loaded onto a wooden carrying device on my shoulders

I set off on my way home. It was a wonderfully clear and frosty

night; the view down into the Rhine Valley and across to the

mountains on the other side was just magnificent. With two

thirds of the way behind me, I sat down in the snow for a rest. I

said to myself: “just for a moment“, as I knew it was not recom-

mended and could be dangerous. The silence and the glorious

view at this height totally enveloped me. An inner shaking soon

made me aware of the fact that I had fallen asleep and was get-

ting cold. I jumped up quickly, and was overcome by the convic-

tion that I had been saved from a terrible fate. I was filled with a

feeling of deep gratitude, and knew that the Almighty had been

watching over me.

HARD TIMES ARE DAWNING

On the 22nd

of November a heavy blow struck to the community.

Eberhard Arnold was called from this life on earth. These were

difficult months, we had to work our way through to finding our-

selves again and finding the way back to community living. The

question arose, as to who would be our leader. But Eberhard had

taken care of that by leaving written instructions, that Hans

Zumpe should have this position.

We did not have much time to grieve the loss of Eberhard

Arnold, our founder and leader of the community. Two months

later, in February 1936, the German consul in Switzerland or-

dered all German men under 25 years old to report for military

service in Germany. We were supposed to return to our home

town in Germany. Seven of us were affected by this command.

Within two or three weeks it became clear to us, that the only

country in which we could continue to live together in communi-

ty was England. We already had several English members

amongst us in Germany and in Liechtenstein. Kathleen Hamilton

(Hasenberg) started to teach us English. She soon gave up trying

to teach me the grammar, and said: “you will learn the language

faster if you just repeat what I say. You can learn a tune quickly

and accurately when you have only heard it once before“, so that

is what we did.

Hans Meier, a Swiss neutral, came to Liechtenstein, and soon

we had a plan, how to get Gerd Wegner, Werner Friedemann and

myself to England with Hans. Werner had been banned from

crossing into Switzerland ever again, as he had once been caught

9

selling our merchandise there, without the relevant Canton per-

mit.

Hans Zumpe, Arnold and Gladys Mason as well as Winifred

Bridgwater were already in England looking for a new place.

Then we got a phone call saying that Werner should fly to Lon-

don. Hans Meier took him to Kloten Airport. At passport control

they missed his Swiss ban on entry. Of course he only had one

ticket for the flight to London and took the first plane out of Zü-

rich. Arnold was going to pick him up. In the afternoon we got a

phone call from London, saying that they had sent Werner back

to Zürich. Arnold had not been able to pick him up. That was

very worrying for us in Zürich. Would they allow him back

through passport control? Late that night Hans and Werner ar-

rived at our secret hideout. Werner had no money to pay for the

flight back. If the Swiss control had caught him at Kloten they

would have sent him to Germany into the clutches of the Nazis.

We thank God for his protection.

THE FOUR OF US ON THE RUN How were we going to get to England now? The plan was for the

four of us to travel as tourist via Italy to Spain and then get on a

freighter at Bilbao for England. Hans Meier spoke Italian, French

and English, which would prove to be very useful to us.

The Tirolean costume the community wore (black jacket,

waistcoat, knee breeches and long black stockings) was not real-

ly suitable for this occasion. We acquired clothing that hikers or

members of the youth movement would wear. Thus attired, we

left Switzerland one night in the middle of March on the last

train from Zürich via the St Gotthard Tunnel to Italy. We got out

just before the Italian border, then in the early hours of the fol-

lowing morning we crossed the Swiss Italian border on foot. We

then continued our journey by train to just outside Milan, where

we found a hostel late that night. It had paid off that we had

bought Swiss International Youth Hostel membership cards be-

fore we left. They looked like real passports.

After a quick look around Milan we continued by train to

Genoa. Mussolini and his fascism had already been in power for

a few years, and the Italian Gendarmes were everywhere. In

Genoa we went straight down to the harbour. We wanted to see

what ships were there, and where they had come from. We spent

the first night in our tent in an olive grove on the outskirts of the

city. It was a bit cramped in there for four men. The next day we

went straight back to the harbour, bought a wicker bottle of olive

oil and some white bread. Hans said: “that is the cheapest food“.

We lived on it for three days. We hoped to get a lift on an Esto-

nian freighter sailing to Liverpool. Hans had found out from one

of the crew, that the ship was due to leave in two days time. It

was a few crew members short, as they had lost two men over-

board during a storm on the way to Italy, while crossing the Bay

of Biscay. That didn’t sound too tempting. None the less we de-

cided to return to the ship that night to talk to the captain person-

ally. The first time he was not there. While we waited on the

landing stage, Hans went on board. Suddenly four Italian Gen-

darmes appeared, we had not noticed them before. They got

Hans back off the ship and ordered us to leave. So that option

fell through.

At the same time we heard and also read in the paper that civ-

il war had broken out in Spain. It was flaring up all over the

country. So it was not really advisable to try our luck in Spain.

After three days in Genoa we approached the French consu-

late to try and get a transit visa, without giving away the fact that

we wanted to go on to England. As soon as they saw the three

German passports that was the end of that. We sensed the under-

standable hatred the French had for the Germans. A few months

before Hitler had marched into the Saarland and taken it back

from the French. We were exposed to this hatred in other French

consulates we visited in other places along the Riviera. We

walked for four days from Genoa to the Monaco border. Now

and then a lorry driver would give us a lift. The Landscape was

really beautiful. We spent the nights in our tent.

Just before the Monaco border we saw a valley going up into

the mountains so tried this route. We pitched our tent for the

night in a lemon grove that was in full flower. Hans went to

Monaco to get a good map, and also to get us some food. We had

a good night surrounded by the wonderful aroma of the lemon

flowers.

Next day we studied the map, and decided to set off from one

of the villages in the valley, make our way up into the hills, and

from there to cross the French border. We reached the village by

sundown and found the road that led to the border. No one was

to be seen in the streets or on the road into the mountains. But

suddenly three Italian Gendarmes blocked our way. “Where are

you going, what do you want up there“, they asked. Hans told

them. “We want to see the sunrise“. “There is no sunrise up here,

this is all military property and no one is allowed up here“, came

the reply.

The three took us back to the village to a superior officer.

There it became clear to us that this plan had no future. By now

it was quite late in the evening. The officers were quite friendly

and even gave us a meal, which we gratefully accepted. One of

the officers said: “We will escort you onto the next train, and

take you as far as the terminus, from there it is not far to the

French border“. Hans Meier had his violin, and Werner his re-

corder, so we sang and played some songs for them. The mean-

ing of the songs was clear even if they could not understand the

words: “Meerstern ich Dich grüße, O Maria hilf“, and then an-

other song in which Holy Mary was named repeatedly. It was

unbelievable how the sentimentality of it softened these hard

military men, so that they were almost in tears.

Then it was time to go, one officer after a warm farewell

said: “you do not need to pay the train fare“. We thanked them

again. Escorted by two military personnel, we went to the station

and took the train to the terminus, where we arrived at about 11

o’clock at night. We stood there on the road, far below to the

right a river rushed by, on both sides the mountains rose steeply

up to the clear star filled sky. We walked a little way and then

stood and looked up into the starry sky and put our fate in the

hands of God and Christ, we just wanted to follow and serve

Him, and knew that only He could help us. Soon we saw the bar-

rier in the distance and the lights of a house. Slowly we crept

closer and could see a path to one side of the barrier. We could

see the guard asleep in his chair with his head on the table. Very

quietly we crossed the border, and were 20 metres away on the

other side when we were called back. The guard took us to a

house 200 metres further on and rang the bell. It was already af-

ter midnight. A man came down the steps from the third floor.

Hans spoke to him and showed him our international Youth Hos-

tel membership cards. The man was half asleep, and just waved

his hand telling us to move on.

So we didn’t have a stamp or any proof of where we had

crossed the border into France. We walked through the village

looking for the railway station, and also found a place by a hedge

that was just right for our tent. Hans went back to check when

the first train to Nizza and Paris was due to leave. He soon re-

turned and said: “We leave at 5.30 for Nizza, then get a connec-

tion on the express train to Paris.“ We decided to wear our

Tirolean costume from then on. We refrained from putting up the

tent and slept under the stars as best we could. We did shifts so

that one of us was awake at all times. We had a watch with us,

and were very aware of the fact that we did not want to miss the

deadline.

10

All went well, and in Nizza we bought something to eat. Soon

we were on our way on the express train travelling at a speed of

100 km. Sometimes it felt as though the train was about to leave

the rails. By midnight we arrived in Paris and were starving. We

found somewhere to buy some food, then made our way to the

Eiffel Tower, where we slept on some benches. We took turns

keeping watch in case a police patrol came along. There was still

a very real danger that the three of us with German passports and

without a transit visa would be deported and handed over to the

Nazis.

We knew when the first train in the morning left for Le Ha-

vre. We had hardly slept for two nights. Next day on arrival in

Le Havre, we found some food and water, then quickly left town.

Along the Seine estuary by the sea we found a rocky overhang.

We pitched our tent beneath it. Hans went straight back into

town to try and contact Arnold Mason in England by phone. He

also asked him to send us some money for the trip across the

channel, as we were completely broke. It was evening before

Hans got back: “They have already found a place, and are now

living on a 200 acre farm in Ashton Keynes near Cirencester“, he

told us. He had arranged with them for us to travel next day on

the night ferry to Southampton. They had sent the money the

same day by telegram.

We were greatly relieved by this news, and slept very well

that night, after all we were very tired after the past three days.

Very early the next morning we were rudely awakened from a

deep sleep. The earth shook beneath us. We heard a terrific bang,

like an explosion. It happened several times. We opened the tent

a crack, and saw clouds of smoke coming from a hole high up

above us in the rock face. We found out later that they practiced

shooting from here out over the sea.

We were now feeling better and well rested. In the afternoon

we made our way to the harbour. We bought our tickets for the

night ferry in plenty of time, then had a look around the harbour.

The big steam ship Normandy was ready on the berth. We were

wearing our tourist clothes again, with our costumes in the ruck-

sack. We left it to the last minute to go on board, so that there

would not be much time to ask any questions. Passport control

arrived and the customs officer asked where we had crossed the

border, as we didn’t have a transit visa. Hans told the officer the

exact time and described precisely the place at which we crossed

the border. The officer stamped our passports. “Promise me, that

you will never cross the border here again, otherwise I will be in

serious trouble”, he said. It was a miracle to us and a divine act

of God, that we had crossed France, from south to north without

a transit visa, in spite of the serious political situation at the time,

and the tension between France and Germany.

We breathed a sigh of relief once the ferry was out at sea. It

was a very stormy night. There were only chairs and benches to

sit on, and the ferry provided some breakfast in the morning.

Then we went through customs and saw Arnold Mason over at

the other side. When the customs officer was looking at Werner's

passport, we realised something was amiss. We were lead away

to a higher official. Arnold Mason and the friend who had driven

him over night from Birmingham to Southampton came along

too. The friend was a minister from the Carrs Lane Church in

Birmingham. The official went to a cupboard and got out a doc-

ument file: “Werner Friedemann you have been deported from

this country and sent to Switzerland.“ Arnold explained the sit-

uation to the official, and the minister confirmed that what he

said was true. Arnold also said that we were going to work on his

200 acre farm in Ashton Keynes. So everything was cleared up

and we were allowed to go.

[Annotation by Erdmuthe Arnold: The minister was Leyton

Richards, head of the Carrs Lane Church in Birmingham; see

KIT Newsletter, January 2004, page 7.]

“Ostern 1936” (Easter 1936) is written on the back of this photo. So

this must be the grey cottage, which stood empty at the time when

the Cotswold Bruderhof was founded on March 15th, 1936. Winifred

Brigdwater, Arnold and Gladies Mason, Hans Zumpe and Alfred

Gneiting attended this little celebration. No contract had been

signed yet. They still had no idea where the money would come

from. Hans Zumpe describes this time in his report “The Confron-

tation Between the Bruderhof and the German National-Socialist-

Government 1933 to 1937” (published in 11 parts in the KIT-

Newsletters, December 2007 – April 2010). A 340 Pounds down

payment was due to be made five days later for half a year’s rent,

and all they had was 6 pounds. So the next day Winifred and Alfred

drove to Bristol, Gladys with baby Johnnie went to Birmingham,

and Arnold with Hans to London. Before leaving, they pinned a

notice on the door of the new founded Bruderhof telling the young

men on the run where to find the key (in case they should arrive

during their absence). – The begging tour was successful; they got

the money that was needed in time.

For us Germans, and also for Hans Meier a Swiss national this

experience with high officials was quite unbelievable. There was

still a country in Europe, England that would give us asylum. We

cannot forget that and never will. Throughout the years we have

always expressed our gratitude to the English people.

We enjoyed a good English breakfast, before we left for Ash-

ton Keynes. Arnold and Werner went by train, as there was not

enough room for all of us in the little Morris. Hans, Gerd and I

went with the minister, who had already been driving all night.

Hans was fully occupied trying to keep him awake by talking to

him about anything he could think of. We arrived safely at the

farm, the Cotswold Bruderhof.

In retrospect it is obvious, that this place was obtained specif-

ically for the sake of only seven of the members. These were:

Heini and Hans-Hermann Arnold, Gerd Wegner, Werner

Friedemann, Albert Wohlfahrt, Joseph Stängl and I. The other

four came by various routes from Liechtenstein to England.

When we arrived, Joseph and Albert were already there, together

with Hans Zumpe, Gladys Mason and Winifred Bridgwater (later

Dyroff). It was the divine guidance of God that led us to this new

start, as was to become apparent soon.

This was in March 1936. We made unbelievable progress in

all areas in the four years and eight months we had to build up

the new Bruderhof, before the first group left for Paraguay. The

owner of the farm Mr Deyer was the son of General Deyer who

had driven back the uprising against British Rule in India. It was

he who gave the order to shoot over 100 Indians. Our predeces-

sor Deyer still lived with his wife in a bungalow opposite the

farm.

A NEW START ON THE COTSWOLD BRUDERHOF

We came with nothing to make a new start in England. The farm

was in a very bad state. It consisted of a big house, two small

11

cottages, large barns and cowsheds. They were all built in Cots-

wold stone. The soil was very poor, to a depth of only 20 to 30

cm, below that it was shingle. The water table was 70 to 80 cm

below the surface. First of all we needed to get to work clearing

up the place. In the middle of the farm yard, around which the

farm house, the barns and the cow stalls were built, was a large

heap of manure. There was nowhere for the dung to drain off. An

old horse and an old cart were part of the inventory. With the

help of these we slowly cleared it all away. Gerd and I were giv-

en the job of converting the calf-shed into a workshop for the

turnery. In the adjoining room we assembled a diesel motor with

a drive shaft going through the wall. We were now ready to start

using two lathes and a circular saw.

Within two months, Hans Meier and I drove to Birmingham

to buy second hand lathes and the circular saw. We spent the

night with mother and father Watkins, who later joined us with

their daughter Nancy (later Trapnell). Gerd and I then worked in

the turnery. This was one of our first sources of income. Our

wares were sold in Harrods in London.

Heini together with some of the other brothers took on the

farming. During the first hay harvest Mr. Deyer was still there,

and wanted to oversee the job. I was asked to assist him. Deyer

mowed the hay with an old horse mower, pulled along by an old

Morris. He taught me how to drive the car. We even used the car

to turn the hay. The hay turner, which was even older than the

car was held together with bits of wire, and frequently broke

down. That didn’t matter, with a pair of pliers and some wire, re-

pairs were soon done.

As soon as we had the official documents for the farm, we

started negotiations with the Home Office in London to get more

of our brothers and sisters into the country. The officials were

very helpful and gave us the permits. Arnold and Hardy were the

brothers who sorted this out with the officials. So during 1936,

more families and single brothers and sisters came to us from the

Rhön- and Almbruderhof to help out in the various work de-

partments.

At the weekends we often had friends come to visit us, espe-

cially from Birmingham. They pitched in and helped us to put in-

to practice our many projects. They brought us all sorts of things

like food stuff and furniture of all description. We were very

grateful for this, especially bearing in mind that only a few years

before, England itself had been through a time of hardship and

massive unemployment.

For two weeks during the summer of 1936 a group of the

poorest children from East London came to us with two carers.

They lived in tents. The children had never seen and didn’t know

where the milk they drank came from. On Sunday it was often

my duty to do the milking. I can still see those children’s eyes as

they watched me milk the cows. For them this time in the coun-

try with all the different animals was a tremendous experience.

One of the helpers, Mary Osborn, lives quite near to us now. She

remembers the visit well, and is forever grateful that we were

able to give the children and themselves this opportunity.

During this first year many guests came, they were searching

for a more purposeful life. We were very short of living quarters.

Soon we had to build more dwellings and living areas. Georg

Barth and Fritz Kleiner and their families also came over to Eng-

land during the year. So it was decided to convert the big barn

and the cow-stall where the turnery was into living quarters, din-

ing room and kitchen. It took great effort and the help of hired

labourers to start putting these plans into practice at the end of

the summer of 1936. Fritz Kleiner was in charge of the construc-

tion work. Everything had to be built in Cotswold stone, a very

expensive undertaking. For this purpose a fundraising campaign

was set in motion.

IMPLEMENTATION OF MANY COSTLY BUILDING

PLANS

A few comments on all the building work we did in those four

and a half years. The above mentioned conversion was complet-

ed in the summer of 1938. With an excavator we were able to

open up our own gravel pit in 1937. So we could make our own

cement stones and blocks. The stones we dried with hand presses

and under a big shed.

Next to be built were three larger dwelling houses called the

Lindenhof. After that a large laundry with big washing machines

and a drying room was added. The work departments we created

were very modern and up to date for that time. In two long

stretched out buildings rooms were installed for the bakery, the

turnery, the carpenter’s shop and the sewing room. Opposite to

this complex our own corn mill was erected. Further down was a

shelter for tractors, carts and carriages, beyond that a smithy and

at the end a powerful engine, that could produce electricity in an

emergency. Under the roof was an extensive loft to store the

grain that we needed for our own use. In another long three story

building was the print shop and living accommodation. There

was also a mother house where births could take place.

The farm buildings included a large, three section barn for

the harvest, very nice stables for six horses and two yoke of ox-

en, a cow stall and a milking shed with milking machines for 60

cows. The bungalow was enlarged and renovated to accommo-

date the babies, the toddlers and the kindergarten. There was also

a donkey and cart for the children to ride in.

Two big long railway carriages were converted into living

quarters, and a separate house was built for the office and admin

departments. Then there was the fresh water supply and sewage

plant needed to take care of the hygiene needs of so many peo-

ple. This alone was a pretty expensive objective. In the middle of

1937 we bought a big old wooden prefab, to serve as the dining

room until the new one was finished.

GOOD AGRICULTURAL RESULTS

In agriculture we also achieved a great deal during these years.

The soil had been exhausted by constant cultivation of wheat,

because the state paid well and subsidized it. In Spring the pas-

tures were full of wild garlic. We often could not sell the milk

because of the lingering taste of the garlic. So we ploughed up

the pastures, or used them for mobile hen houses, with laying

boxes and a long wired chicken run which we moved to a differ-

ent part of the pasture land each day. This excellent system also

took care of the necessary fertilisation at the same time.

We operated a similar system with the milking cows that

were outside on the pastures day and night by using a mobile

cow stall with a milking machine attached. The motor was in an

enclosed trailer. The fencing was easy to move to a different part

of the meadow each day. In this way a large area was fertilized in

a very short time, and could be ploughed in, to reap the benefits

the following year when the grain or the hay was harvested.

We ask the advice of the Royal School of Agriculture in Ci-

rencester. But when we told them that we hoped to improve the

soil by planting rye, they told us rye doesn’t grow here. We were

not to be deterred, and shortly before the harvest, we invited the

experts to bring their cameras and come and have a look at our

field of rye. They were surprised when they saw the five foot

high heavy ears of corn. We milled this crop ourselves, and made

the first batches of our own brown bread using wheat and rye

flour. The local population liked this bread very much, and it

sold well. We offered it for sale with our vegetables and eggs in

the nearby towns.

A ten acre field was used for growing the vegetables. We also

had a large greenhouse that had been given to us. For irrigation

we used the water from our big gravel pit.

12

The Main House on the Cotswold Bruderhof.

Ria Kiefer at work in the Cotswold kitchen. An interesting detail

can be told here, which Hans Zumpe wrote in his already mentioned

report: The Rhönbruderhof had to cope with very hard times dur-

ing the year 1936. Unexpectedly an irrevocable mortgage loan of

over 15,000 Reichsmark was terminated. The order by the Nazis

was to pay back this money within fourteen days. A sponsor was

found in England. Just then the question was brought up, why in-

vest more money into the German community, which sooner or

later would be confiscated? The idea was born that the Cotswold

Bruderhof could buy urgently needed machinery from the Rhön-

bruderhof. So when Arnold Mason came to Germany with the

money he bought the whole contents of the printing office, the

kitchen stove, a washing machine and other heavy objects. Through

this transaction the Rhönbruderhof got the needed foreign exchange

and could pay the depts. The stove in the Cotswold kitchen was part

of this deal that was

sanctioned by the

foreign exchange of-

fice in Frankfurt am

Main. On the white

label the manufac-

turer is noted as: Ge-

brüder Roeder AG,

Darmstadt.

The kitchen was situ-

ated in the above

original farm house

built in the 15th cen-

tury (as Hardy Ar-

nold remembered

1984, see “Memories

of Cotswold Days,

Told by Stanley

Fletcher and Oth-

ers”, ©Plough Pub-

lishing House, page

10).

This view of several building gives the impression of crowdedness

due to the many houses and rooms needed in Cotswold.

The washing up was

done in this house on

the Cotswold Bruder-

hof.

At the end of 1937 we

bought another farm,

the Telling Farm. It

consisted of pasture

land only, on which

our mobile milking

stall was soon in oper-

ation. In 1938 we rent-

ed and later bought a

further 100 acres from

a neighbouring farmer.

There we started

breeding pigs, and also

kept sheep.

At first I worked in the turnery, then when others had been

trained I worked on the farm. We had two tractors, driven by

Migg (Fischli) and myself. I helped with the milking a lot as

well. We set ourselves a difficult target. We wanted to breed our

herd up to a certifiable pedigree. We finally achieved this at the

beginning of 1939. Now we could get a better price for our milk.

In 1939 we bought Oaksey, another 100 acre farm a few miles

away from the Cotswold-Bruderhof. We concentrated our dairy

farming here.

We now had 600 acres in production. From the end of 1939

until the autumn of 1940 we sowed flax on a piece of land that

had not been cultivated up for over 100 years. At the first attempt

it felt as if I was ploughing through wire mesh fencing. But it

was worth it, in autumn 1940 we had a magnificent crop, and got

a very good price for it. We got requests from other farmers who

paid us to plough up their old meadows. The government had or-

dered this to be done. Migg and I ploughed up many acres of

land.

13

Together with two other men Werner Friedemann (left) is produc-

ing the famous Cotswold stones, which were needed in large quanti-

ties for house building.

Growing cornfield in front of the Cotswold-Bruderhof

Harvesting a field on the Cotswold Bruderhof.

We did another experiment on a ten acre plot of land that was

overrun with couch grass. We worked on this by sowing mustard

seed three times between spring and autumn, each time the small

plants grew, they were ploughed back in as green fertilizer. I was

given this task. After that we sowed winter wheat in this plot.

We got a very good harvest the following autumn, and the area

was free of couch grass.

After this success we wanted to treat other areas in the same

way to improve the quality of the land. Unfortunately we never

got to do this.

Edith Arnold and Erna Friedemann with some of the children dur-

ing the summer 1938 on the Cotswold Bruderhof. From left to right

in the back row: Maidi and Tobias Dreher, Erna with Mathias

Kleiner, Sanna Kleiner, Ullu Keiderling, Rosemarie and Elisabeth

Kaiser. Front row: Loni Kaiser, Johnny Mason, Jörg Mathis, Edith

with three months old Gabriel, Jennifer and Anthony Harries, Bur-

gel Zumpe. – They were all bound to leave England two and a half

years later. But there were many more little ones who had to be

taken safely into an unknown country and destination during

World War 2.

Children are helping Erna Friedemann to peel peas, around 1939

on the Cotswold Bruderhof. Elisabeth Bohlken-Zumpe remembers:

“We children were told that only we with our little hands and fin-

gers could do that kind of work”.

Older children help to tidy up the place.

14

COMMUNITY LIFE IN ENGLAND

So much for the practical side of things! Now we turn to our life

in community. When we celebrated our first Christmas in Eng-

land in 1936, our English brothers and sisters said it would be

nice if we could follow the English tradition of going carol sing-

ing to our neighbours. We practiced some of the lovely old Eng-

lish carols for several voices, and also sang some of the German

songs. We had quite a good choir of 12 male and female singers.

We sang the songs in the Royal Agricultural Institute in Ciren-

cester. It was a very successful evening which also put us in

touch with the people who taught the students. We also had con-

tact with the farmers in the area. The relationship was generally

good. During our years in England the institute reported back to

the higher authorities in London on our agricultural successes

and how we had achieved them.

1937: Not only

on the Rhön-

and Almbruder-

hof, also in Eng-

land dancing was

one of the happy

occupations for

Bruderhof folks.

In front Erna

Friedemann

dancing with

Karl Keiderling;

in the back at the

right, Werner

Friedemann with

Annemarie Ar-

nold.

During 1936 to

1937 we had

guests visiting

us almost every

weekend. Some

came and stayed

deciding to

share communal

life with us. In December 1936 we heard that two preachers from

the Hutterite communities in Canada were coming to see us. Da-

vid Hofer and Michael Waldner did indeed arrive in February

1937. Eberhard Arnold had visited these old communities in

1930. At that time, he and the Rhönbruderhof were accepted by

their community. He did not want to build up a new Christian

community in isolation. The Hutterite communities have existed

for over 400 years. A week after their arrival the two elders con-

ducted the first baptism of four Germans and one English wom-

an. It was a deeply moving inner experience. The two Hutterites

spent a good two months with us, and visited several of the old

cities in England and Scotland with Hardy Arnold.

Often Michael Vetter, as we called him, came to us in the

turnery and asked: “Well Wilhelm what have you got for me to

do today?“. I declined, “You really don’t need to work at your

age“. He was over 70 years old, but insisted. “With us the

preachers must also work“, he said. So I gave him a piece of

wood to saw into pieces with the band saw. When he had fin-

ished, and I had nothing else ready for him to do, he went up the

high ladder and asked Fritz to give him something to do. We

held the Elders in great esteem. They had many significant and

meaningful things to pass on to us.

Werner and I spent many evenings together with these broth-

ers. They wanted to know all about us. “How and why did you

leave the big wide world to live in the community of believers?”

We told them about our personal experiences, and what had

swayed us to turn our backs on the worldly life and turn to Jesus

and follow his message to live in community with people of

many nationalities.

DAVID HOFER AND MICHAEL WALDNER

EXPERIENCE THE EXODUS OUT OF GERMANY

As their two months came to an end, we heard how badly things

were going for the community at the Rhönbruderhof, where the

Nazis kept setting buildings on fire in various locations on the

property. These two dear old brothers took spontaneous action

and set off on their own on the 8th

April 1937, to go to Germany

and the Rhön. As foreigners they intended to support and stand

by our brothers and sisters. During their stay, the Hof was sur-

rounded by the SA (storm troopers) and the police, who ordered

everyone to leave the Hof within 24 hours. As undesirables they

were not allowed to remain in Germany any longer. They could

only take the bare essentials with them.

A few of them went to Liechtenstein to the Almbruderhof.

The majority travelled to Holland; they were taken in by the

Mennonites for a while. Three brothers went to prison: two

Swiss, Hans Meier and Hannes Boller, as well as Karl Keiderling

who was German.

In England it took us a few weeks to complete the prepara-

tions for taking in the large group from Holland. First we had to

obtain the entry permits from the authorities. When England

granted them entry, we were quite overwhelmed by the amount

of help that was given to us. I think the group from Holland ar-

rived in July 1937. The popular London papers took photos and

printed front page reports about how our brothers and sisters,

with young children and just a small bundle of belongings, had

fled Nazi Germany and come to England. Many English people

responded very generously to this report and sent us help. They

came at the weekend with vans full of everything imaginable that

could be of use to us. This carried on for months. The Quakers,

the Salvation Army as well as many other groups supported us.

We also had contact with a few groups who were attempting

to live in community, such as in Whitway, the Cotswolds and in

Leeds. They wanted to live according to the writings of Tolstoi.

In Birmingham there was also a group who wanted to build a

common Christian life together. Most of them joined up with us.

[The Birmingham group, see KIT Newsletter January 2004, pag-

es 7 and 8; Life Story of Francis Beels.]

DEPARTURE OF THE TWO HUTTERITES

The two old brothers from Canada went to the Almbruderhof,

and from there travelled onwards to many countries in Europe,

where for over 400 years their old fellow believers had lived and

endured martyrdom and death. At the end of August the two

preachers came back to us in England. On 15th

September 1937

they set off by ship for their journey back home. For them as

well as for all of us, the parting was hard. We had experienced so

much with them in these past months. We said again and again:

“that it was Gods will that you came“. Their presence also surely

protected our brothers and sisters in the Rhön from going to the

concentration camps.

I wanted to give them a present and souvenir to take with

them. So I made them two big salad bowls from the 400 year old

oak beams that we had to take out of the big old cow stall. That

was hard work. The bowls were as hard as iron to turn. Two spe-

cial Swedish steels were needed for the job. They were in fact

the first bowls of this size that had been turned by the Bruderhof.

Later we produced these for sale – with great success. The

preachers were very pleased to have these special bowls, made

from mature timber, to take with them. Unfortunately they were

the only two bowls I was able to produce from the old beams.

The rest of the wood was damaged and rotten.

15

YOUNG PEOPLE BEING PREPARED FOR THE KIBUTZ

IN ISRAEL

We received an enquiry from the Zionists in England asking if

we would train a group of 20 young men and women in all as-

pects of agriculture and farming. They wanted to thus prepare

themselves for emigration to the Kibutz in Israel. The Zionists

argument was: “You have the same communal living as a Kibutz

in Israel, so what better preparation could they have?“ The group

came with a married couple who were to take on their leadership.

They were with us for a few months and were a great help. The

girls were allocated to the baby house, toddler house, kindergar-

ten, laundry and kitchen, as well as the garden and working in

the fields. The group looked after themselves on the whole. As

far as I can remember, they were with us from the summer to the

autumn of 1938. This time was enriching for both sides. By the

end these young people were very thankful to have experienced

this time with us.

OUR ENGAGEMENT, WEDDING, AND THE CLOSING

OF THE ALMBRUDERHOF

In the months from April 1937 single brothers and sisters contin-

ued to come from the Almbruderhof to England, as we needed a

large workforce for our development. Many of the single people

lived on the Telling farm, which was about a mile away from the

Cotswold Bruderhof and could be reached without leaving our

property. Several smaller families also lived there. So it came to

pass that I got to know the Swiss girl Lini Rudolf better. She

lived there too, and we often walked across together. To make it

short, we got engaged on the 7th

November 1937. In the morning

the bell was rung for a brotherhood meeting. First information

about the Almbruderhof was reported, as a sort of pretext for the

hastily called meeting. Then it was announced that someone

wanted to put a request to the brotherhood. I stood up and said

what was on my heart: “It has become clear to Lini and myself,

that we wish to continue life together as a married couple.“ No

one had a question or an objection. Everyone was in happy

agreement with our decision.

Lini and I were given the day off and some money and we set

out towards Cirencester. We now had so much to say to each

other. In the evening there was an impromptu celebration with

the whole community. The smaller lathe was dismantled and

brought into the dining room. A sketch was performed with a

circular saw and card board, demonstrating how at work, all I

could do was sawing out hearts. To the accompaniment of vio-

lins and guitars many of the old love songs were sung, including

some Swiss songs. Anni and Peter Mathis sang some Romanic

Wilhelm Fischer and Lini Rudolf got engaged on November 7th

1937. After the announcement in a special Bruderhof meeting dur-

ing the morning, they were given a day off. In the evening they cele-

brated with the whole community.

Eight months

later a double

wedding took

place: Wilhelm

and Lini Fisch-

er as well as

Gerhard and

Waltraut

Wiegand cele-

brated their

marriage June

17th /18th 1938.

Around the

same time

Werner

Friedemann

and Erna

Steenken got

engaged.(see

the picture be-

low)

songs from the

Engadin. It

was a lovely

and enjoyable

evening, with-

out a lot of

preparation or

rehearsals.

One felt the

whole com-

munity was

happy for us

both.

Due to Hit-

ler Germany

the political

situation in

Europe was

rapidly draw-

ing ever nearer

to a head. In

the first week

of March 1938 the Nazis occupied Austria. When we heard this

we immediately made preparations to accommodate our brothers

and sisters from Liechtenstein in the Cotswold-Bruderhof. All

Germans as well as some brothers and sisters of other nationali-

ties arrived in England on 12th

March, just a few stayed behind to

wind up affairs in Liechtenstein.

Already months before it was decided that a double wedding

would take place on 17th

/18th

March 1938. The two couples were

Waltraut and Gerhard Wiegand with Lini and I. In spite of all the

unforeseen events, the weddings took place. The brothers and

sisters, who had had to leave Liechtenstein in such a hurry, were

delighted about this happy event. Gladys and Arnold Mason, Pe-

ter Mathis and Emmy Arnold were our witnesses. (At this point

something that happened earlier comes to mind: When another

German couple was getting married, the official asked the bride

to repeat: “to accept ... as my lawful husband“. She changed it in-

to “... my awful husband“. It was through mistakes like this that

we learned English best).

At the Polterabend (equivalent to a joint stag and hen party)

of course a lot went on, there was no getting away from all the

ribbing and teasing. This was followed on Sunday by the im-

portant and more serious part of the wedding for us. It was the

true Christian joining in marriage. After the wedding feast, the

16

celebration continued for a long time. It was at this point that we

withdrew and set off on honeymoon for a week. We took the

train to Bridgwater in Somerset. We were given the address of a

place where we could stay for bed and breakfast. There I made a

real gaffe. Instead of saying we were married, I said we were en-

gaged. I realised straight away that I had used the wrong word

and quickly corrected myself.

After a good traditional English breakfast we got out our

rucksacks and set off to wander through the lovely Somerset

countryside. We went to Taunton and along the coast to

Ilfracombe. On the third afternoon nearing Porlock we put out

our thumbs to drivers to indicate that we wanted a lift. A man in

a car stopped. We wanted to go to Malborough, and as he was

going through there, he took us with him. As we drove down

Porlock hill, the man said: “Anyone who gets down here safely

can call himself a good driver“. That was about 50 years ago,

brakes were not as good as they are today. The man put the car

into first gear, and took the tight bends with his foot and hand

brakes, sometimes with only one hand on the steering wheel. We

were relieved when we got to the bottom. We arrived in the town

at about 9 pm, thanked the driver for the lift, and were lucky to

find somewhere to stay at this time of night.

Wilhelm tells about

the steep Porlock

Hill. On their hon-

eymoon he and Lini

had a lift in car go-

ing down that hill

much too fast. Some

others might have

some frightening

memories about this

nearby hill.

The next day we

continued on our

way towards Ci-

rencester. We soon

got a lift with a

wagon driver who

was going towards

Stroud. Lini sat on

the left hand seat,

and I sat over the

motor in the centre

of the driver’s cab.

The things one

puts up with to get

a free ride to ones

destination! We spent about three days in the old Cotswold town

of Stroud, and explored this very interesting area and country-

side. That is where we enjoyed the last days of our honeymoon.

On Sunday we arrived back at the Cotswold-Bruderhof. We did

not yet know where we were going to live. A room in the attic

above the work shop had been beautifully prepared for us. The

next day it was back to work. Lini went to the big new laundry,

where she shared the overall responsibility, and I to work on the

farm.

VISITORS: JEWISH REFUGEES FROM AUSTRIA

It was about May 1938 when we made a commitment to the

Home Office in London to take in 86 Jewish refugees from Aus-

tria in the very near future. Somehow we made room, so that

they at least had a place to stay. Many elderly couples, young

people, unmarried and on their own came to us. Many of them

soon moved on to friends and acquaintances already known to

them in England. Others soon obtained visas allowing them to

emigrate to the USA or Canada. It was a pleasure to us to be able

to give these people a helping hand, to save them from the grasp

of the Nazi-regime. Some of the single young people spent a

longer time with us. One 18 year old only got his visa to the

USA over a year later. Later we heard from him on several occa-

sions. He had trained to be a doctor, and thanked us for taking

him in. – At weekends we nearly always had visitors, so we had

to arrange a guest duty to take car of them.

On 11th

February 1939 Lini and I had a very happy experi-

ence. Our first child, Lucrezia, was born. It was a healthy, strong

little girl. It was a normal birth, everything went well.

During this year we were still in the process of building up all

our departments, and the political situation in Europe caused us

great concern. When World War II broke out in September 1939,

it must have been obvious to all the countries in Europe, that

hard times of poverty and misery lay ahead of us. I remembered

a very rare natural occurrence that we all witnessed in the south

of England about a year before the outbreak of the war. One

evening the Northern Lights were visible a long way to the

south. The skies and the heavens burned like a great fire storm.

We were so amazed and astonished that we were lost for words.

But the British people asked themselves what the meaning of this

could be? The papers were full of speculation and interpretations

of this event.

HOSTILITY FROM THE NEIGHBOURS

In the period from the end of 1939 to the end of 1940 we experi-

enced what this war would mean to our community. Our neigh-

bours from the neighbouring villages suspected that we had a

group of people amongst us from the Fifth Column. They be-

came our enemies because there were many Germans amongst

us. We were threatened that our barns and stalls would be set on

fire.

As the Nazi bombing over England became heavier and

heavier, especially when Coventry was practically destroyed, the

Militia came to us to tell us that they had to dig deep trenches on

our land for use in defence against the Nazi bombers. That hap-

pened around the middle of 1940. This was only done to us, not

on any of the neighbouring farms. They were convinced that we

were spies or members of the Fifth Column. After the destruction

of Coventry in the summer of 1940, the troubles with the popula-

tion around us became even worse. We asked the Home Office

for help and advice. But they could not help, even though they

held us in high esteem, especially because of our achievements

in agriculture over the past four years. They advised us to give

up all German Nationals to an internment camp until the end of

the war. But we could not do that. So we made the decision to

emigrate.

But where to? Hans Meier (Swiss) and Guy Johnson (British)

were asked to go to USA and Canada to investigate whether it

would be possible to rebuild our community there. It was a diffi-

cult and serious decision. The journey itself was very dangerous,

as the German U-boats were in full force and sank many of the

British ships. In July 1940 we said good-bye to the two brothers.

They arrived safely in the USA, and spoke to many contacts and

acquaintances in an effort to find a new home for us. They spoke

personally to Eleanor Roosevelt, but there was no door open for

us.

Thereupon the Mennonites in South America offered us some

land. Their fellow believers had settled in Paraguay many years

ago. Now things moved very quickly, including the acquisition

of the immigration papers from Paraguay. The country had

granted us total religious freedom, and the exemption from mili-

tary service for our young men. It was a hard decision, but we

made it with complete trust in God.

17

ONLY PARAGUAY WOULD HAVE US

None of us knew anything about Paraguay. Then one of the

brothers found a little German book about Paraguay in one of the

English Libraries. We read it aloud in the dining room. At one

point there were details of an 8000 hectare piece of land that be-

longed to the German citizen Rutenberg. He was inviting people

to go hunting. Part of this property was described as being like

an English park; large areas of lawn with the occasional copse or

spinney. Even now, so many years later, I still find it strange that

we bought this property from Rutenberg, to build our new home-

land. We lived there for Twenty years.

First discussions took place and decisions were made as to

who was to be in the firsts group to emigrate from England to

Paraguay. Lini and I with our two children, Lucrezia and Johan-

na were among them. It was an international group: German,

Dutch, Swiss, English and Spanish nationals. Altogether there

were 86 of us including the children who set off on the journey

from Liverpool on the 25th

November 1940.

In the meantime during the remaining three months there was

much to be done. First all Germans’ passports were withdrawn

by the Home Office. And so we became stateless, and were pro-

vided only with an identity card and exit permit. This card con-

tained all important personal information including a passport

photograph.

In 1940 we had a very good harvest from our land. We were kept

busy with bringing in the harvest as well as with the packing. A

great deal of thought went in to deciding exactly what to take

with us. During this time the bombing attacks on England were

particularly bad. Almost every night Hitler’s bombers flew over

us deep into the country. Two airfields were nearby, so we also

saw the planes taking off from there. One morning at daybreak,

Fritz Kleiner and I were going up Chapman Hill, where we had

collected a large stack of corn ready to put through the big old

threshing machine. We got everything ready so that after break-

fast, with more men we could get on with the job. Then we saw

two spitfires climb up high ready to chase the German bombers.

They didn’t appear to find anything up there, and soon came

back – perhaps it was just a practice run. From very high up they

came spiralling down again. The second one didn’t make it, and

plummeted straight down to the ground and exploded. That was

a dreadful sight. Two days later some senior officers came to ask

us if we had seen anything. We told them about the horrible ex-

perience. They probably still suspected that members of the Fifth

Column were hiding amongst us.

In October we were working hard at the threshing, trying to

get the harvest safely stored in the big barn, when we heard a big

explosion late in the afternoon at about 5 o’clock. The ground

shook. I was at the end of the threshing machine ready to take off

the full sacks. The sky was over cast with thick cloud. We

looked around and asked each other what on earth could have

happened. All we could see was a German bomber that had just

dropped its load on Kemble airfield before making a bee line

back up into the clouds and disappearing. Immediately spitfires

shot up at either side as if someone had stirred up a hornet’s nest.

On another occasion during this time we were awakened in

the early morning at about 6 o’clock. The floor shook and the

window panes rattled. Once again a bomber had dropped a

bomb, this time over Ashton Keynes, making a huge crater near

a cottage there.

During these months many guests came to us who were seri-

ously searching for a new way and a purpose in life. France had

already fallen under Hitler’s domination. Now England was sup-

posed to be the next country to be taken over. All one can say to-

day is, thank God that it did not come to that.

THE FIRST GROUP EMBARKS ON THE JOURNEY TO

PARAGUAY

In November 1940 for us, the first group to travel, it was the start

of a new chapter in our lives. On the 10th

of November we said

good-bye to the Cotswold-Bruderhof and travelled in two Omni-

buses to the station at Minety. It was a very sad farewell from the

life we had to leave behind. In the face of these difficult times,

we did not know if we would ever see each other again. Lini and

I were very aware of the fact that our Johanna was the youngest

child. She was seven months old, and made the long journey ly-

ing in a laundry basket. As the train travelled through Birming-

ham we could see the smoking ruins resulting from the bombing

of the station that had taken place the day before. It was dark

when we arrived in Liverpool. We spent the night together in a

big hall, sleeping on the floor. We expected a quiet night, as the

bombers had targeted the harbour and the city the day before. All

this happened 47 years ago!

Our journey continued in the evening of the 11th

of Novem-

ber on the Andalucia Star, a 22,000 ton freight ship with 144

passenger places in exclusively 1st class accommodation. Be-

cause of the risk of air raid attack everything was in near dark-

ness with minimal lighting on the gangway upwards to board the

ship. There the captain was awaiting us. When he saw the young

children he said with a heavy heart: “My ship must not sink”. I

can still hear the sound of his voice as he said it. That is how se-

riously the captain took his responsibilities. We were told we

would be travelling with a convoy, but three days later out at sea,

there was nothing to be seen far and wide not a ship in sight.

Our family had a cabin to ourselves. Everything you could

possibly want was there. The first meals were a new experience

for us. We had never in all our lives been offered menus such as

these. When the starters arrived we thought it was the main

course. On the third day we got into very rough seas. We were

all seasick. Now and then someone went to the dining room to at

least have a little something to eat. But the plates were sliding

about all over the place, and you also had to hang onto the table

yourself, to prevent falling off the chair. It took your appetite

away completely. If you did manage to get something down, it

was only to rush straight to the toilet to bring it all up again. Lini

stayed in the cabin for days with the children. We didn’t see any

of the other passengers in the dining room either. One day, Adolf

Braun, Gerd Wegner and I wrapped up well and went out on

deck in front of the bridge. We had to hang onto the railings as

we looked forwards out to sea. Waves as high as houses crashed

over the ship; at times the front of the ship disappeared altogeth-

er. We stood there for as long as we possibly could. The result

was that the seasickness completely disappeared. At the next

meal we could tuck in style, and catch up on all that we had

missed. So going out on deck was the best medicine to overcome

seasickness.

We tried to persuade others to give it a go, but to no avail. I

could not even convince Lini. She was already two months preg-

nant with our third child. The storm lasted for a good seven days,

then the weather improved. Only then could many regain their

strength and enjoy the good food on offer. At last we met the

other passengers that were travelling with us. We also did a more

thorough exploration of the ship that was our home for five

weeks. There was much on offer to pass the time, as well as

games for the children. Gym equipment was available for exer-

cising. In a separate room we, the community, could gather for

spiritual meetings. That was worth a lot to us during this danger-

ous journey.

As we neared the equator the weather continued to improve

and we could go up on deck. For the first time we noticed that

the ship was not travelling in a straight line, but zigzagging to

and fro every hundred meters of so. An officer explained to us

18

that this was because of the submarines. At night everything was

blacked out, not a single ray of light could escape. But some-

where near the equator, on a calm and warm night, we passed

through a sea of light. Thousands and thousands of lights twin-

kled in the sea below us. For hours we gazed at this splendour,

conjured up by tiny creatures as if by magic. And in the sky for

the first time we saw the constellation of the Southern Cross.

MAYBE NOT TO PARAGUAY AFTER ALL?

Some of us got permission to have a look round in the engine

room, even though this was not really allowed during times of

war. It was about two or three storeys down to the drive shafts on

the right and the left. They propelled our ship across the ocean.

About three or four days before we reached Rio de Janeiro, I

went up on deck with Lucrezia. Another little girl about her age,

two years old, joined us, and they played happily together. The

parents were very pleased about that. The man, Señor Concalves,

asked me in English where we were going. He noticed that I only

spoke German to my daughter, and told me he also spoke Ger-

man and was the Brazilian Consul in Frankfurt am Main. When I

told him that we were immigrating to Paraguay to develop agri-

culture there, he immediately said, “We need you here in Brazil,

don’t go to Paraguay. Please can you tell me how to contact

whoever is in charge straight away?” I went in search of Hardy

Arnold and told him about the conversation. The two then talked

together for a long time.

In this lovely weather with a calm sea, we were allowed to

open the portholes for the first time. We were getting near to

Brazil, and the ship was sailing in a straight line now. When on

deck during these days, we often saw a group of dolphins that

swam ahead of us. They would accompany us for a long time at a

safe distance from the ship. To see these fantastic, intelligent

creatures in their natural environment was wonderful for Lini

and me. Johanna slept in her basket on the floor of our cabin. She

had plenty of fresh air, because the porthole was open. I went to

check on her, and was going to bring her on deck in case she

woke up. When I opened the cabin door, I got a powerful electric

shock, which threw me backwards into the gangway. I saw that

the floor was under water and the mirror had been ripped from

the wall and broken into tiny pieces. Splinters of glass covered

Johanna’s basket. Everything was live. I quickly got help, but the

men could not get in until the power had been disconnected. Jo-

hanna lay in her basket and smiled at me with her big dark eyes.

A wave had burst through the porthole causing the disaster, even

though there was not much of a swell. It is a wonder that nothing

worse happened to Johanna.

Two or three days before our ship dropped anchor for the

first time in Rio de Janeiro, Lini and I enjoyed the sunset on the

after deck. We had already put the children to bed. In a clear and

cloudless sky a tropical sunset is wonderful to behold. As we

strolled along the deck I saw flashes of lightning to the west. But

there was not a cloud to be seen. We stood still, the flashes came

again and then again. Apart from us there was only one of the

senior ship’s officers on deck. As he passed us I spoke to him.

He said nothing, but ran as fast as he could to the bridge. We saw

that they were very agitated, and rushed out with telescopes.

Immediately the ship resumed its zigzag course. Next day we

heard that a German and an English war ship had been in a skir-

mish.

We arrived safely in Rio, and stayed there for one or two

days, giving us the chance to go ashore and have a look round

Rio. Hardy went with the consul straight to the authorities, who

had already been contacted from the ship. In spite of all the talks

with the various departments, it emerged that it would not be

possible for us to settle in Brazil after all.

Our ship then sailed to Santos, where again a lot of unloading

and loading took place. We had been warned not to go ashore

there, because outbreaks of yellow fever, a worse illness than

malaria, frequently flared up in the port. The next stop was Mon-

tevideo. As we approached the harbour, we could still see part of

the large ship, the Graf Spee, rising up out of the sea. The British

Navy had sailed it into the straits just outside Montevideo.*)

Editorial Note: Here the recordings by Wilhelm Fischer ended.

In an introduction to his Life Story the author gives an outline

sketch. There he only skims over the time in Paraguay, the exo-

dus to England of part of his family in 1960 and the separation

from the Bruderhof. Wilhelm died on 20th

December, 1995 as the

result of a stroke. His wife Ursulina (Lini) Rudolf died four years

later on New Year’s Day 2005.

The following passage was part of the introduction.

ARRIVAL IN PARAGUAY

Our next ports of call were Buenos Aires, Asunción, then on to

Puerto Casado. We lived in the Chaco with the Mennonites for

two months; then found a better property of 7800 hectares in

Eastern Paraguay, where we eventually settled. That was in Feb-

ruary 1941. During the next months of this year, all the others

came from England to Paraguay. They crossed the ocean in

many different ships and arrived safely in the new homeland.

In the year 1951 I was sent on my own, without my wife and

children, with a few others to Uruguay to build up a new com-

munity near to Montevideo. I was there for over a year, then re-

turned again to Paraguay and to my family. 1956 Lini and I were

sent to Asunción as house parents. The Bruderhof had two hous-

es there, where 15 young people attended the higher educational

establishments in the city to get better and higher qualifications.

This was a very happy and lively time that lasted for just over a

year. With us we had our youngest son, three month old Matthi-

as.

In June or July 1960 Lini and I were sent to England with

four of our children, to help out in the community there. Our

three eldest stayed behind in Paraguay and Brazil. In 1941 we

had left just three members behind in England to tie up our af-

fairs and then join us. But during the war so many came who

were searching for a new and different way of life, so in the end

a new community was started in England.

After twenty years of hard and valuable pioneering work in

Paraguay, it was all dissolved in 1961. It was followed by the re-

________________________

*) Footnote by Erdmuthe Arnold

(not published in the KIT Newsletter):

Let me make a remark about Wilhelm mentioning the warship Graf

Speer. That ship exploded one year earlier (December 17th, 1939), and it

was the captain himself who sank the ship after a terrible fight on sea

with English marines around December 13th, 1939. The ship Graf Speer

was hit several times, many men died or were wounded on both sides.

The captain, Hans Langsdorff, had hoped to get his very modern and

quick ship repaired in the harbour of Montevideo. But he was not admit-

ted. And the British enemy wouldn’t let him sail into the open See. The

captain then made sure that the crew could leave the ship. They reached

Uruguay or Argentine by boats. Langsdorff stayed on board and sank

the ship by explosions. An old friend of mine, late Ernesto Kroch,

watched this from the Cerro, the hill which gave "Monte video" its

name. He wrote about this in his book: "Heimat im Exil - Exil in der

Heimat, Autobiographie," published 2004 here in Germany by

Assoziation A, pages 97/98.

The wreck of the ship could be seen in front of Montevideo's har-

bour for many years, Ernesto says for decades! I interviewed him about

this in 2005.

19

1956 Wilhelm and Lini Fischer were the house parents in Asunción.

Lini, second from left, could take three month old Matthias with

her. There are lots of people in that picture known to many of us,

for instance to the right Victor Crawly, Hermann Arnold, Hilda

Crawly, Fida Mathis. Wilhelm’s face is half hidden behind Biene

Braun, Evi Dreher and another girl. Next to him on the left Harry

Maggie and Kristel Klüver. Franzhard Arnold is in the back line

(from left) next to Seppel Fischli, Klaus Meier, next ?, and Hartmut

Klüver (?). In the front squatted: Ludwig Fischer, David Hüssy as

well as one of his twin brothers and Michael Vigar with a kitten.

location to USA, England and Germany. During this time Lini

and I were asked to take some time away to think things over –

after thirty years of living in community. But we never returned.

We lived for ten and a half years with five of our children on a

2000 acre farm. Now [1986] we have been here in Winchcombe

for fourteen years in the house belonging to Joan and Kuller

[Guillermo]. They themselves have now been in Paraguay for

almost eight years, where they have settled with their four chil-

dren.

The last Buderhof the Fischers lived at was Wheathill. A family pic-

ture at Easter time 1961. Shortly after that Wilhelm and Lini left

the community with their youngest four children. Only Johanna

stayed on the Bruderhof: She married David Mason 1963; sadly she

died after giving birth to another child September 20th, 1977. On the

photo from left to right:

Johanna with Matthias, Lini,

Giovanni, Wilhelm, Markus

and Friedrich. (At that time

still in South America: Lu-

crezia, Ludwig and Gui-

llermo.)

Passport photo of Ludwig and

Guillermo Fischer 1962.

Another photo from that time – On the tower of the Bruderhof

house: From left Noel Beels, Fida Mathis, Ludwig Fischer with his

baby brother Matthias, Peti Mathis and Franzhard Arnold.

1963, the oldest daughter Lucrezia and her husband Hans-Jörg

Meier, who had decided to stay in South America, visited the Fisch-

er family in England. From left: Wilhelm, Guillermo, Mathias, Gio-

vanni, Lucrezia, Hans-Jörg, and Markus.

Two Reports Published Together With Wilhelm Fischer’s

Life Story in the KIT Newsletter

Fred Kemp a Pioneer in Wheathill

By Erdmuthe Arnold

Some time ago I got hold of a Bruderhof brochure “Memories of

Cotswold Days - Told by Stanley Fletcher and Others”, 1984.

According to what Stanley is telling, Fred must have been one of

the first ones who came to the Wheathill Bruderhof, maybe he

also got to know the Cotswold Bruderhof, after all members with

their families had left for Paraguay in 1941. The British War Ag-

riculture Committee had doubts if the people who bought the

Lower Bromdon Farm knew very much about good farming.

Few months after the place was started March 1942 the only

ones they thought were promising and able to run a good farm

were, as Stanley remembered: “Sydney [Hindley], who had been

a poultry farmer, and Fred Kemp, who was a real country boy. In

their tour round the farm they had found Fred laying a hedge. ...

One of the men said: ‘This is not the first time you laid a hedge,

is it?’”

20

Fred subsequently joined dur-

ing and not after World War

II, as was written down in the

KIT Newsletter from August

2005. Only after my “Memo-

ries of Fred Kemp” were pub-

lished, I received a photo

showing Fred behind one of

his beloved Black Current

bushes. My uncle Albert Löf-

fler received it from the

Brethren community in

Bright.

Fred was born in Wales

on February 6th

, 1914, only

two weeks later than my

mother Gertrud Arnold

(January 21st, 1914), as Fred repeatedly told my uncle. He died

December 28th

, 2004 from double pneumonia in a hospital in

Woodstock near the Brethren Community Farm in

Bright/Ontario.

FROM MEMORIES PUBLISHED IN KIT, AUGUST 2005

In Wheathill, and later in Primavera and El Arado Fred worked

as chief gardener with high skills on this field. During the big

crisis 1960/61 Fred returned to England to live in Bulstrode; only

to leave the community and country after a short time. Next sta-

tion was Forest River in North Dakota, where he stayed from

1962 to 1964. At the Brethren Community Farm Bright Fred

found a new home in fall 1964. There again he could follow his

passion as gardener. It must have been so overwhelming that

over all the years he couldn’t straighten up his body anymore. In

the last decades of his life you could recognize him from afar,

walking bent over like a triangle.

On several of my visits to my uncle and aunt Albert and

Gertrud Löffler near New Hamburg we visited Fred at the farm,

who had become a good family friend.

Marie Johanna Eckardt

(1874 – 1963)

By Erdmuthe Arnold

The oldest member joining the Rhönbruderhof was Marie

Johanna Eckardt, born May 15th

, 1874 in Kletzko/Poland. She

died at the age of 88 on January 22nd

1963 on the Evergreen

Bruderhof in Connecticut. Hans-Hermann Arnold, at that time

Servant there, remembered her during a Love Meal the next day.

Marie was a trained Kindergarten teacher and had sixty chil-

dren in her care from 1893 until 1901. She was strict and handled

them with typical Prussian military control, expecting absolute

obedience. Shortly before her death Marie had shared with

Bruderhof members details about her life during a family supper.

After this period working with children, she trained as a nurse

and joined the deaconess order with the aim to help the sick and

disabled. But her main inspiration was, to bring a “personal

Christ” to them. She was loyal to this pious and subjective Chris-

tianity until she died.

Marie came to the Bruderhof 1932 and brought a mentally

unbalanced girl with her. This girl is never mentioned again, ex-

cept that the Bruderhof was unable to help her because she

wouldn’t comply. All her life Marie studied the Old and New

Testament, especially the Letters of the Apostles, and she would

speak mainly in Biblical language.

My cousin Elisabeth Bohlken Zumpe recalls from what her

parents and grandmother told her, that Marie stayed on the

Rhönbruderhof until the place was closed 1937. She left Ger-

many with the last group on April 17th

, travelling via Holland.

They could enter England two months later on June 15th

, 1937

(the exact dates are from Hans Zumpe’s report; mentioned in a

caption on page 10). Many Swiss people were in that group, for

instance Trautel and Leo Dreher as well as Margrit Meier and

Else Boller. Other names that come to mind, are Irmgard Keider-

ling and Sekunda Kleiner, these four women travelling alone

with their children (Margrit, Else and Irmgard leaving their hus-

bands behind – who were

imprisoned by the Nazis).

Marie Johanna Eckardt, on

the Cotswold Bruderhof in

1937.

Marie had the personal

permission from Eberhard

Arnold to keep on wearing

her deaconess dress. She

continued doing this

throughout her 20 years in

Primavera. She was a

member but always lived

apart from the community

life in her own little world.

Some of the KIT readers

will not have the happiest

memories of being in the

care of Marie. “Difficult

girls” would be taken

away from their family and had to live with Marie in Loma

Hoby, always one at the time. Some of them had to endure this

kind of Ausschluss for several years, and had to listen to the Bi-

ble readings from their tutor Marie. Elisabeth remembers that

those girls were not allowed to go to school, and they would al-

ways come to the common meals in the dining room together

with and in the shadow of Marie. The other children never dared

to ask what the reason was for this kind of punishment. As to the

girls this traumatic experience never left them, although some of

them say that the Bible knowledge is something that gave their

lives direction.