The unlikely Schindler who saved my wife’s family

As I gaze at my four children on Christmas morning, clambering on to the bed with their stockings, I will think of one particular person to whom, in a roundabout way, they owe their lives. He was a colonel in the first world war and, had it not been for his generosity, my children, their mother, her brothers and sisters, their children, their aunts, uncles and cousins — the entire Bondy clan, in fact — would not exist.

The story begins in 1918, as the conflict was nearing its end. Karel Bondy, my wife’s paternal grandfather, was a young Czech officer in the Austro-Hungarian army who had miraculously survived heavy fighting in Albania. He was on his way back to barracks from the front line one evening when he encountered a drunk German colonel, slumped in the saddle of his horse. Karel did the decent thing and asked the officer if he could be of any assistance. Turned out he was lost. Could Karel help him find his quarters? Karel took the horse’s bridle and steered the colonel to his tent.

When they arrived, Karel tried to take his leave but the Oberst wouldn’t hear of it. He sat Karel down and insisted they have a drink together. One drink led to another, and at the end of the night the colonel decided to reward Karel for his act of kindness. He reached for a small wooden box under his bed, pulled out an Iron Cross and pinned it to Karel’s tunic. ‘This is for you, in recognition of your outstanding gallantry,’ he said. Naturally, Karel protested, but to no avail. Not only did the colonel stop him giving it back, he reached into the box again and pulled out a certificate which he completed and handed to him. ‘Now it’s official,’ he said.