How I – at 17 – became a British citizen – a true story

It was a school trip to England. For many in the class, it was their first trip to Great Britain. We were still young, full of curiosity, and London was a huge adventure for us. Our meeting point while exploring the city was Trafalgar Square, one of the city's most famous squares. We were to gather there regularly before continuing our journey together.

I was 17 years old at the time. Even then, I had dual citizenship: Polish and German. As an emigrant from Poland and a late repatriate, I had received both. In Germany, at least according to the understanding at the time, Actually, only a limited number of citizenships were permitted. More than two were unusual. That day, we spent several hours in Trafalgar Square. Tourists were everywhere, buses drove by, and pigeons fluttered across the square. It was loud and lively. A classmate suddenly drew my attention to something. A large suitcase stood there—in the middle of the square—completely unattended. The suitcase was unusually large. Almost like a chest. It seemed heavy and solid, and no one seemed to care about it. No owner nearby, no one to check on it.

The 1990s in Great Britain were a time when terrorist attacks by the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PRI) repeatedly made headlines. Bomb threats were not uncommon back then.

I looked at the suitcase and said, half-seriously, half-jokingly:

"This must be a bomb."

My classmate replied that the suitcase really did seem to belong to no one.

As 15- or 16-year-old boys tend to be, some in the class didn't take it seriously. They jumped around the suitcase, shouting "Bomb!" and laughing. For them, it was a game. An adventure.

This game would later leave them speechless.

Within about 15 minutes, police and security forces were suddenly there. The situation changed abruptly. Sirens, barricades, frantic movements. The authorities reacted quickly.

Later it turned out that several bombs had indeed been planted in London. Three in total. One of them was a nail bomb, which exploded in front of a gay bar. The whole city went on high alert. Streets were closed, areas were cordoned off, and emergency services were everywhere.

Our class was quickly instructed to go to the train station. We just barely caught the last train back to our accommodation outside of London. But that wasn't the end of it. When we arrived at our host families' houses, everything was cordoned off. Officials came into the house.

Everyone in the group had to be questioned individually. I was the last one. Several friendly women from the authorities were sitting in the room. They asked many questions: What we had seen.

Who had noticed the suitcase first. Who had said anything. Who had been nearby. The interview lasted a long time. During the interview, they noted that I spoke significantly better English than many of my classmates.

They praised my language skills several times. Communication with some of the other students had been more difficult.

I had to provide my personal information and show my child's ID card. Everything was carefully noted down and even taken outside the house.

After many hours, everything was finally sorted out.

Our host parents and the other students were allowed to return to the house. As a parting gift, I even received a small present: a wallet. Inside was a small notepad where I was supposed to write down contact information and addresses.

I also received some money to buy souvenirs. One of the friendly ladies even filled out the notepad for me – My own handwriting was so illegible that she thought no one would be able to decipher it later.

And then there was something else special. I received a provisional British identity card from the United Kingdom.

So it came to pass that—at least after this experience and this document—I could suddenly claim to possess British citizenship in addition to my Polish and German citizenship. An unusual story Memories from my youth – triggered by an unattended suitcase in Trafalgar Square.