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We Were There
Southwestern Jewish Press, March 6, 1947:

By Albert Hutler

Usually, this column tells the story of my experiences in displaced person work in Germany. However, a newcomer to San Diego, Ber Lebenthal, who has been in the United States just two weeks, having arrived here from the Stuttgart Displaced Persons Camp, can tell you the story better than I.  So here is his story in his own words:

"Hallo, Ber," "Hallo, Eva."  These words have been spoken in a certain office of an UNRRA D.P. Camp almost a year after the end of the war. Eva, my work comrade, came into the office, a day of work began, a day of listening to troubles and problems of people...Excuse me—people would be a wrong expression...just D.P.'s will be better...war cripples with destroyed lives, wounded bodies and hearts...disappointed people who expected that the end of the war will mean the end of their martyrology. "I must speak to the director, please I must"—a woman of about 55 years turns to my desk..."may I know the reason please, the director is very busy." Instead of the answer, there are tears in her eyes...After a while, "We live in terrible circumstances, there is no stove in our room and it is so cold, the walls and the ceiling are wet, my older daughter is ill now, and I don't want my other child to be also a victim."  I let her pass and after a few minutes a bellring calls me in. "Try to get a stove for her," I am told. "And some coal, call up the Joint or the HIAS, maybe they will have it."  So, I called the Joint, and they have the necessary items.  I cannot describe the woman's face then, it was like the eyes of a dog, when you meet him in the street in a stormy and rainy weather and take him into a war room...And those D.P.'s are just such dogs in a street, without a home, waiting for somebody who would take care of them.  Who will?  Maybe, you readeers?

The D.P. Committee has a meeting: the food situation in the camp is critical—no fresh products as butter, meat and vegetables are available.

Our ambulance clerk notes about 15 cases of gastric disorders daily. After a long discussion they decide to ask the Joint for help.  He comes sooner than expected. And again the number of illness cases falls down to a possible minimum.  Who was the helping donator?  Do you know?  YOU READERS!

And again...and again, people passing our office...They come like children to an older brother for help and advice. How good it is to be able to help them and see sunshine on their faces, and how terrible tolet them go without help, helpless and with a bitter feeling in their hearts...Mr. Lerner, Mr. devitan, Miss Levine, Mr. Lornfelt, officers of Joint, HIAS, ORT or UNRRA, names which won't tell you anything but to me they mean people who did their best to bring some hope into the dark life of those hungry and wet "dogs" who wait...wait...wait for the end of their martyrology.  They gave all they had: their strength, their time, their hands, their heads and their hearts, but it was not enough to meet their problems and it is still not enough. It is up to you readers, to let us help those dogs and make them human beings again.  Will you?