Bea’s Story

I mentioned several posts ago that Carolyn (Peters) Stucky has shared a box of items from our family history. One of those items is a three-page, typewritten manuscript labeled Beatrice Buller’s Story. Since the last post discussed Henry and Bea’s experience as MCC relief workers, now seems an appropriate time to share Bea’s story as recounted in her own words.

WALLS AND WINDOWS: I Was a Stranger and You Took Me in

Ask most teen-agers today what the word “Holocaust” means and you’ll be met with a blank stare or shrugging shoulders. Ask most young people what they know about World War II and you’ll receive similar reactions. Except for a few movies and television programs, some as inane as Hogan’s Heroes, our children are learning very little about those war times, the persecution of the Jews, the death camps. Some kooks even pretend the Holocaust never happened. That’s why my pastor in Beaumont reminded me of the importance of telling and re-telling my life story and of explaining how the living testimony of Mennonite relief workers in France helped me to find Christ and His peace and how I felt safe and sheltered in the caring community of the Mennonite church.

Yes, the theme “WALLS and WINDOWS” seems very fitting for my experiences as a German-Jewish refugee, a holocaust survivor, who found in the midst of war and strife the small redemptive community of Mennonite and Quaker relief workers serving war sufferers “in the Name of Christ.”

I was born in a German-Jewish family in Duisburg on the Rhine. My father, an attorney, was put into prison during the first few months of the Hitler regime. His crime: being Jewish. My parents were non-practicing Jews but, under Hitler, religion did not count, he declared us racially inferior and so at age 12 I soon learned what it meant to be rejected, undesirable, even an enemy of the people. After 6 weeks, my father was released from prison and decided to leave Germany and start a new life in Belgium. The rest of our family joined him one year later, except for my older brother who had to stay in Germany to complete an apprenticeship in the shoe industry. My parents had decided to take him out of an academic high school and place him in a trade that promised more immediate earning possibilities … an important consideration for refugees. When he finished his training, he could not live with us in Belgium, because it was impossible to get a work permit at that time and so he emigrated to the United States. From that time on, our wish to be reunited as a family led us to apply for a US visa as well. But the mills of legal US Immigration grind exceedingly slowly and the German troops invaded various parts of Europe and thus our hopes for a new life in the US were cancelled twice. It took my parents 8 years from the time they first applied for a visa, till they finally stepped on American soil. I cannot tell you all the details today except that in December 1941, when we thought we were well on our way to the US, we were stranded in Lyon, France when Pearl Harbor was attacked and America entered the war. Confused, worried and disheartened we found our way to the MCC office where Joe Byler and Henry Buller received us very kindly. But they did not know themselves whether they would be allowed to stay in France, now that the US had entered the war. Our US visas were cancelled because the US now was at war with Germany and considered us Germans (which meant enemies), even though the Germans had taken our citizenship away for leaving Germany. We were their enemies, too, they felt.

I’ve had a lot of practice being considered “enemy” or at least undesirable. When Hitler came to power in 1932, we became enemies because we were Jews. When we fled to Belgium, we lost our German nationality, they called it “ausgebuergert” [expatriated, denaturalized]. It was strange, Hitler did not want Jews to leave Germany, even though they were “enemies,” so Germany revoked our nationality and we were stateless. In Belgium we were treated kindly for seven years, but when the Germans overran and occupied Belgium, we were enemies again. We fled to Unoccupied France with the help of the French underground, arrived in Lyon, France five days before Pearl Harbor and automatically became enemies again, this time to the Americans. Later in 1944, when I came to the US, even though I was married to Henry Buller by then..... (that’s a whole other story) I was classified as an enemy alien. I could not own a gun, a short wave radio set and every time I wanted to travel more than 10 miles from Akron, PA I had to apply for permission in writing to the Attorney General in Philadelphia. (I was working at MCC Headquarters for 18 months while Henry had gone overseas again on his second 3-year term of relief work in England, Germany and France.)

I did not mind too much being considered an enemy alien in the US, because I lived in the nurturing community of the MCC Headquarters family. This is another time when I experienced the sheltering and shielding walls of a vibrant faith community. From the C.P.S. men and their families, from Irving Horst, my boss in the Publications Section and from all my new Mennonite friends, I learned a great deal to help my new faith grow and also to become acquainted with my new country. This is where windows were opened to me. I learned to look out at the world with a new vision of love and compassion and with a desire to serve God and His children. I cannot emphasize enough how formative those 18 months in Akron were for me. That is where I received an important part of my education, both spiritual and temporal … Within those sheltering walls of that MCC community, I felt safe even though the war was not over, I felt loved even though my husband could not be with me and my family was still in danger in Europe and I learned to look out through large, clear windows upon a world that needs Christ’s message of peace, forgiveness and servanthood.

P.S. Oh, so you want to hear a bit more about that “whole other story” and what happened to my family? Well, in 1941 when we had asked Joe Byler and Henry Buller for advice, I mentioned that I could type and do shorthand in German, French and English … so they hired me. Joe Byler soon returned to the US and Henry and I worked in the Lyon MCC office together. We also discussed all the problems of the world. It was the first time that I realized that the Christian religion is more than going to church every Sunday and singing and praying … that it is a life-changing belief which makes people leave their homes and serve in dangerous places without a thought for their own comfort or safety. I read the Bible for the first time and soon wanted to be baptized and join the Mennonite church too … but WWII developments complicated that a bit too. Nov. 10, 1942 German troops occupied all of France and the city of Lyon, too. The Swiss Mennonite minister who had planned to come to baptize me and marry us, could not enter France but Henry and I were legally married at the city hall on November 11, 1942, the day the Germans occupied Lyon. Three weeks later we were interned in Baden-Baden, Germany for a year and 6 days with US diplomats and in March ‘44 we were exchanged against a group of Germans who had been interned in the US. My parents remained in France and lived under an assumed name, narrowly escaping being sent to concentration camp twice. My older brother had joined the US Army, my younger brother the French Resistance, (and I had become a conscientious objector). My family was finally able to come to the States at the end of the war in 1945. My older brother is Jewish, my younger brother became Catholic and with my Anabaptist-Mennonite faith, we are a very ecumenical, loving family.

Although Bea did not set out to write a history of her life, we can gather several details from her story and then supplement them from other sources to fill out her biography.

Bea reports that she was born in Duisburg, Germany, where her father was an attorney. She recounts that several months after Hitler came to power, her father was imprisoned. Since Hitler became chancellor on 30 January 1933, we can date her father’s imprisonment to sometime in the first half of 1933. Bea indicates that she was twelve at the time.

Bea’s father was released from prison in mid-1933, after which he moved to Belgium. We are not told where in Belgium he lived, but it was presumably reasonably close, since the Belgium border was only 50 miles southwest of Duisburg. The rest of the family except Bea’s older brother joined him in Belgium the following year, that is, 1934.

Bea’s older brother, we are told, emigrated to the U.S. after finishing his training in the shoe industry; the date of his emigration is not given, although several hints help us to narrow down the time frame. Bea reports toward the end of her story that her family finally made it to the U.S. in 1945, eight years after they had first applied for a visa in order to be reunited with Bea’s older brother. This means that he had emigrated sometime between 1934 and 1937.

The next signpost on the way is the report that, after living in Belgium for seven years, Bea, her parents, and her younger brother fled, with the assistance of the French underground, to the unoccupied zone of France. They arrived in Lyon, France, on 2 December 1941, five days before the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor. That attack, of course, brought the U.S. into the war against the Axis powers (most notably, Japan, Germany, and Italy). Unable to proceed further due to their identity as German-born persons, the family was stranded in Lyon. 

Providentially, Bea’s family went to the MCC office in Lyon, where she met and then worked alongside Henry Buller and eventually married him on 11 November 1942. As has been already reported (see here and here), Bea and Henry were interned for a little more than a year—a year and six days, Bea reports here—then were released as part of a prisoner exchange and traveled to the safety of the U.S. First Henry and then, after at least eighteen months, Bea returned to Europe to continue their work with the MCC.

What of the rest of the family? According to Bea, her parents remained in France living under assumed identities until they were finally allowed to emigrate to the U.S. in 1945. Bea’s older brother, who had emigrated in the mid-1930s, had in the meantime joined the U.S. Army. Her younger brother had joined the French underground. It was only sometime after the end of the European conflict on 8 May 1945 that Bea’s parents (and brother?) finally made it to the U.S.

Such is the account that we can reconstruct from Bea’s story. Remarkably, neither her parents nor her two brothers are named. Fortunately, other sources fill in the blanks somewhat. 

For example, we learn from Bea’s obituaries (several are posted online) that she was born 25 September 1920 and passed away on  12 October 2008 (see, e.g., here). We are also told that she was survived by her brother Gerard. Presumably that statement also signals that her other brother and both parents had passed away before her. None of the obituaries gives their names.

Thankfully, other sources fill in those blanks. According to the GRANDMA database, Bea’s father was Richard A. Rosenthal, and her mother’s maiden name was Marie Neumark. An entry at Ancestry.com (here) supports and supplements this identification, listing her other brother as Kenneth L. Rosenthal. To be honest, the name Kenneth does not sound particularly Jewish or German. Another source (here) gives his name as Kurt Lutz Rosenthal, and yet another listing at Ancestry.com (here) gives his name first as Kurt Lutz Rosenthal and lists Kenneth L. Rosenthal as an alternate form (presumably the name he used in the U.S.). In the end, it is safe to conclude that Bea’s older brother (the sources agree that he was born in 1917) was originally named Kurt and probably later went by Kenneth. According to most records, he died in 2002, six years before Bea.

Remarkably enough, Bea’s younger brother Gerard, who was born in 1923, appears to still be alive at age one hundred. One cannot be certain about this, but there is no trace of an obituary, and several sources list a current address. Again, the name Gerard sounds more French than German or Jewish, which raises the possibility that this was not his birth name. A listing at Ancestry.com (here) fills in the blank, noting that Gerard was also (previously?) known as Gerd Ernest Felix Rosenthal. Even more interesting is the fact that Gerard’s testimony was taken and recorded by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (here).

One final tantalizing note: like the name Gerard, Beatrice is generally considered a French name, not a German or Jewish one. Thus it is not surprising to see that one source (here) indicates that Beatrice was also (previously?) known as Berta. Could it be that some members of the family adopted new names (recall that Bea’s parents lived under assumed identities) during their French sojourn? A name change would help to explain how Berta/Beatrice’s Jewish identity went undetected by the Nazis. It seems that there is much more to Bea’s story than we will ever come to know.