Air Force Museum
The Violin
Robert Kahn was forced to play this violin during Kristallnacht in November 1938 while his family's home was destroyed and his father was taken to Dachau. Kahn hid the violin before escaping Germany. After serving in the U.S. Army during World War II, he recovered it and preserved it as evidence of both persecution and survival.
In depth
History & service
The day began by witnessing the purposeful destruction of the only Jewish vocational school in the area, while people cheered and applauded. It was my school.
Then, as I hurried home on my bike, I arrived to see a mob of Nazis in brown and black uniforms throwing our furniture and other belongings through windows which had been smashed and off the balcony. In the yard below, a huge bonfire consumed everything dear to us, while the Nazi hordes and mob of onlookers sang and shouted insults at us, the Jews.
While our apartment was being destroyed and ransacked, mother was locked up in one room, crying loudly. My father was being beaten up in the hallway, pleading for mercy. When I too asked them to stop, they took me into my room, threw my violin at me, took me to the balcony, and ordered me to play happy German songs.
Before I fled Germany, and eventual freedom in America, I hid the violin in the attic of our apartment. When I returned from military service in the U.S. Army and the war was won over Hitler, I wrote to the janitor of our apartment at Mannheim, Germany. He found the hidden violin and sent it to me in America!
This is the violin which shares all the memories of the past with me. At one time it could vibrate to imitate the happy flight of song birds. Today it is only a reminder of a once dehumanized and terrified German boy.
Details that tell the story
Owned by Robert Kahn · Survived Kristallnacht and the war · Recovered by Kahn after his U.S. Army service
What survives after the mission
A museum object begins a second life when it stops performing its original job. An aircraft that once carried a crew becomes a place for public memory. A jacket, letter, medal, or small piece of equipment can preserve a much more intimate connection. The object is valuable both for what it reveals physically and for the documented story that gives it meaning.
Famous aircraft and individuals can make a complicated history approachable, but they are only part of it. Many people left no celebrated machine behind. Memorials, personal possessions, unit records, and photographs help recover the experiences of those whose service was less visible. They also preserve loss, separation, captivity, recovery, and the consequences of war for families and communities.
Preservation involves choices. Restoring an aircraft may make its design easier to understand, while retaining wear or damage may protect evidence of its use. A reproduction can explain how a machine worked, provided its identity remains clear. Linking objects across collections helps fill the gaps created when surviving material is dispersed. A uniform in one gallery, an aircraft in another, and a memorial elsewhere can illuminate the same history from different directions. The result is more than a record of machines: it is a way to keep the people, decisions, and experiences connected to them in view.
