Harry Olmer: from concentration camps to tea with the Prime Minister

80 years ago, Harry Olmer was enduring exhausting and dangerous conditions in the labour camp of Schlieben and was soon to be sent on a forced march to Theresienstadt in Czechoslovakia.

He had been 11 years old when the Nazis arrived at his home town, and the horrors began. As a Jewish boy, he was one of the millions targeted by the Nazis’ antisemitic hate. Three years later he survived the first of many selections, which saw women and children, including Harry’s mother, sent to Belzec extermination camp and murdered on arrival.

Harry, his brother and his father were instead sent to the Plaszow labour camp. From there, he went to the notorious Skarżysko-Kamienna labour camp, and eventually on to Buchenwald, Schlieben and the death march.

This Holocaust Memorial Day, which fell on the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau, a lot has been said about the moment that the gates to the camp were opened and the world began to realise what had happened during the Holocaust.

But for Harry – and millions of others – the notion of freedom was still a distant dream. Harry would not be liberated until May 1945, four months after Soviet troops arrived at the world’s most infamous death camp.

The idea then, in the depths of that hellish existence, that he would not only survive but thrive must have been beyond his imagination.

When the war ended, Harry came to the UK with The Boys – children who had been orphaned during the Holocaust. He arrived speaking no English and with nothing but the clothes on his back. But a mere three years later was a British citizen. He served in the British Army, married, had 4 children and 8 grandchildren and went on to be the UK’s oldest working dentist! Today he is a proud Shul-goer, loved by his community.

Harry Olmer chats with Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer at a reception for Holocaust survivors (Image: Getty)Getty Images

Last week Harry, who could barely consider where his next meal was coming from 80 years ago, had afternoon tea with the Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer and Lady Starmer.

The couple hosted Holocaust survivors and their descendants, and sat with each of them, looking at their photographs and mementos, listening to their stories. The meeting at 10 Downing Street came just days after the Prime Minister, accompanied by his wife, made a private visit to Auschwitz to see for themselves the site where approximately a million Jewish men, women and children were murdered by the Nazis. Days later, the he addressed the UK National Commemorative event, alongside His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, surrounded by Holocaust survivors and their families, dignitaries and religious leaders.

While the Prime Minister and Prince of Wales spoke in London, His Majesty The King became the first serving monarch to visit Auschwitz-Birkenau, attending the International Commemoration to mark the 80th anniversary of the camp’s liberation. He stood alongside Holocaust survivors and the world’s media, sending a powerful message about the place the legacy of the Holocaust has in our consciousness. Earlier this month he had seen different examples of how young people learn about the Holocaust, guided by Holocaust survivor Manfred Goldberg.

This year, 80 years on, Holocaust Memorial Day has taken on a profound significance. Across the world, the day has been remembered. Our national leaders have shown – again – that this issue has a key place in our national memory and conversation. Survivors’ stories have been heard. Every news channel, every newspaper, every radio channel has given attention to this significant day.

And so today, with the eyes of the world on this history, I think of Harry, and all of the survivors like him.

Now aged 97, Harry has spent nearly 80 years rebuilding the life that was snatched from him by the Nazis. He built a family, a career, a community. He can never replace what was taken, but his legacy is woven into the fabric of the life he created. And recent weeks have shown that his legacy is woven into the fabric of Britain, and will continue for generations to come.