My Grandmother as a child (15) in the ghetto in Hungary

It was first in 1943 that we started hearing of the Nazis’ vicious acts in Hungary. Poles and Czechs who were looking for places to hide from the Nazis, started coming to Hungary. Though actually, the viciousness had already started a couple years prior. My Dad was taken to Russia for labor camp for 2 years. Dad was taken in 1942, and was released in 1944 after we paid the Nazis a lot of money.

Jews couldn’t study at the Universities. Germans Jews had their stores robbed and many Jews were tortured and killed.

Man always thinks that what happens to others won’t happen to him. Surely people were exaggerating. Jews couldn’t go to theaters, restaurants (Nuremberg Laws). Only those of “pure race” were allowed.

Unbeknownst to me, my parents dug a hole in our garden and hid most of their gold and silver in there. My dad was an optimist, and generally a flexible and reasonable man. He was good hearted and quiet. In his worst nightmares he couldn’t have imagined what was coming to us. As people were not allowed to employ Jewish workers, my Father had to let go his Jewish employees. He secretly paid them though, so they wouldn’t starve.

Every Jew had to sew on a yellow star whose dimensions were specified on their clothes. I had a 10cm x 10cm star sewn on. It was a shameful sign of inferiority. That’s how 3 of us ladies [my Grandmother and two friends] walked to a Christian school together. There was a nearby poor town whose quarters were set aside as the Jewish Ghetto.

We were exposed to the Gestapo as a rich Jewish family living out on our own in Miskolc. Then one day the Gestapo broke into our house and demanded that we leave in one hour. We were kicked out of the house where we had led a peaceful life. From a nearby store, we were given a little cart with two wheels. With a helper from the store, we put some belongings: beds, mattresses, blankets and clothes into our cart. Only 20 kilograms were allowed. We looked back at our beautiful villa, which my parents worked so hard and saved much money to afford. We were sad and depressed, my family pushing this cart away from our house and towards this ghetto. We were also embarrassed, we felt like we had just been run over. We walked and walked, with lots of other Jews, all embarrassed. Onlookers were very happy at our misery. We Jews had no voice.

With the initiative and help of the Hungarian police, all Jews were rounded up. In those days, thousands were bribing the police to get papers pretending that they’re Christian. Thousands tried to save their families and souls. We couldn’t do anything because my parents, at that time, were taken to jail. The reason was because they were rich. Authorities demanded to know where we hid our money. It wasn’t enough that they got the house, furniture, the store, the goods in there, they also wanted our money. They also wanted the little gold we had left. They were finally able to beat the secret of the location of the gold out of my parents after the Hungarian Gestapo kept at it.

I was put in jail for 3 or 4 days. My parents were there for at least a whole week. I was put there because my parents hid the money. I don’t know how we got out. Perhaps my parents paid a huge bribe. For some reason, I wasn’t miserable in jail.

[Here I asked my Grandmother about her parents. Her Dad was a journalist. He opened a clothes and shoes store for men and women. He studied at Berlin University. Her Mom didn't finish her studies because of World War I; she was studying languages. (My own Father, upon listening to our conversation, added that his side of the family had somewhat a similar level of education and background)].

As a girl, I didn’t understand the significance of what was going on. Even the food- the white beans- was good. After the days spent in jail, we were returned to the ghetto. My brother was in Budapest, he attempted to enroll at the University, but was not admitted. He was trying to become a mechanical engineer.

In each room in the ghetto, there were 8-10 beds. It was unbearably cramped. We were all right next to each other, many families. We stored everything in there. There was constant noise, and a small kitchen. My parents still had some money, so we didn’t starve. After a few weeks, we were sent to a brick factory. We slept in an open garden with no roof above us. This was May 1944. It was really cold. We slept on a mattress and still had few belongings. We dug up holes in the ground for our personal needs. Soldiers enjoyed watching us do our needs outdoors.

Despite my rich upbringing, I didn’t suffer. I walked around and talked to friends. I don’t remember if there was or was not enough food. Apparently it was not important, I didn’t eat much, I simply got by.

[Journal skips to December 12th, 1980]

It’s my 52nd birthday. All of a sudden, I remembered my 16th birthday, in 1944, the Winter in Guben, Germany. That year, Winter was very tough. Never in my life had I experienced a Winter so tough. At 5am we were already standing outside. [Something called Tsenapel, a way the inmates were counted]. They cut our hair and we were all freezing. My teeth were rattling I was so cold. There were tears in my eyes from so much suffering. I stood there in my summer dress, with a small, thin rain coat. My dress was light blue and short sleeved. It was also very dirty, I wore this for at least 3 months, as I had no other clothes. I was able to wash it every 3 months.

I wore wooden shoes, easily 3 or 4 sizes larger than my feet. We couldn’t walk bare footed in the cold of Winter. My shoes from Auschwitz were stolen. I never had socks. At 6am we were all out, my wooden shoes rattled like ringing bells.

About one hundred people did work. We took an hour to get to work, running. The Germans were also cold and they made us run by screaming at us. Fast, fast (schnell), keep running. They didn’t let up. I ran with my huge shoes, tears running from my face. In one hand I had a bandage covering my infectious open wounds (so the Germans wouldn’t see). The wounds never healed. In my other hand, I had a blanket, my only possession, covering my body because I was so cold.

Due to the excessive running, my bandage would often fall. I put it in my coat. The cold crept into my open wounds, it was a horrid pain. I kept crying. I was very hungry and tired. I had frostbite. My bread was stolen from me overnight, right from under my head while I slept. We all ran like sheep following the herd every day. Each one of us had lost a friend or family member. I ran alone while all the others ran together. At 7am, we were at Lorentz Factory.

Once there, we could finally catch our breath. I had interesting work, I checked programs. I don’t know what programs: radio, plane, something else; to this day I don’t know. I got a tool from the Germans. It was a program that had “ABC” and I needed to check the tool with two electric wires. If A+A it was good, electricity would flow. I worked while sitting, it was only hunger that bothered me. I worked non-stop until lunchtime, at 1pm. We would have a small, thick soup at that point, with seeds and sprouts. I could have easily eaten a few more, but only 1 was given to me. The work day ended at 7pm. We could only go to the bathroom with an escort. The guard waited to get enough people, then as a group we were taken to the bathroom.

It was dark outside and cold to the bone. In this cold we returned to camp. My fingers and toes were frostbitten from running so hard. I’d often fall but would get up fast. There was so much snow and ice, we constantly slipped. Once back, we hurried to get in long lines that curved around the kitchen. We were served a bowl of soup, but thinner than at lunch. There were also 2 – 3 small cooked potatoes.

With my bowl, I walked to my room where there were 20 – 25 ladies. In order to avoid aerial bombings, our surroundings were kept very dark. It was a far walk from the kitchen to our room. I would spill some of the soup along the way, as I couldn’t see. With all my strength, I would sit down and eat the food. If only I could have received a little more… all I wanted to do was eat. I would have given my whole life for another bowl of soup. It’s hard to describe something like that. When you’re that starving, you would give everything for a bit more food. I only wanted to sleep and rest. Once in a while we were lucky enough to receive a bit of bread with jam or butter. I always took a lot of time to eat my food.

Sometimes I wonder how we were able to work so hard with so little food. Unbearably little food. I always ate all of the bread, I didn’t save any for the next day. I feared it would be stolen. It was so hard to sleep when the stomach is so empty and it’s so cold. With the few calories in my stomach I could finally get some sleep.

All of us had tiny wooden beds. We slept two to a bed, so we could keep each other warm. We never undressed, as we had nothing else to wear. I only took off my coat. No one wanted to sleep with me because I was so cold I would wet the bed.

There was a tall, big lady with us who had tuberculosis. I forgot her name. She spit blood when she coughed. So no one wanted to sleep with her either. Neither one of us having much of a choice, we bunked together. It wasn’t easy for me, she almost took up the whole bed on her own.

There were Hungarians and Poles in the room. I was tucked in the corner. I barely slept 3 – 4 hours each night. My pains, the wounds, all bothered me. The horrid pains simply kept me up. There was also pain in my kidney and bladder. In horrid pain, I woke up to go to the bathroom routinely. When I wet myself, I didn’t have a change of clothes. This was one day in 365 I spent in the labor camp. This was a standard day, and how I celebrated my 16th birthday. In my dreams, I constantly thought of my parents, whom I knew were not alive. I also dreamt of a plate full of food.

[Journal skips to March 1981]

Arnon has recently turned 2. He says Saba “Ooda” [reference here to my calling my other Grandfather, Yehuda, Ooda]. It’s nice to eat good food. I recalled the concentration camp, in particular the uncooked potatoes I was able to steal in Guben. I put the potatoes on the bread.

After months, the wounds would not heal. The badge would always fall after I took a couple steps. Oh how bad my pain was, one can’t even imagine. Who knows, Arnon, maybe you’ll find my diary and read it one day… I cook oatmeal for you.

They say we go to our death like a herd in a slaughterhouse. Did we even have any other choice? After Hitler’s power, there were 33 democratic countries as part of Evans Assembly in Germany. All these democratic countries could not give shelter to the European Jewish refugees. And England blockaded Palestine and didn’t let the refugees in, expelling those that came by boat.

[Incidentally, my Dad's parents (not yet married) were headed to Haifa Harbor in August of 1946. Their ship was intercepted and routed to Cyprus. They spent the next year and a half there, and were actually married there.]

The assembly didn’t do anything other than condemn the Nazis. They didn’t save anyone from anywhere. They didn’t provide salvation for the refugees. There was nowhere to go. What could we do? [All of this was before the labor camps in Hungary]

What could we do, rebel? All the young men who could hold weapons had already been taken to labor camps in Russia. My Dad had spent two years in Russia. [Grandmother's Dad was a major in World War I]. His title was stripped away from him. Mom moved heaven and earth in order to free him from labor camp. She paid a lot.

Who could have rebelled? The sick? The weak?

[Journal moves two weeks forward, still March 1981]

David [her husband, my Grandfather] is 60 today. He is working in Tel Aviv today, I will work this afternoon. Time is going by much faster than we want. We’ve been married for 33 years. There have been good and bad times in our lives. Life is tough with our two girls, but we always got by. Hopefully there will be many more good years ahead of us. Now I’ll continue with my diary.

My wounds grew and got worse. I was at the edge of my pain threshold. I couldn’t work any longer, I simply had too much pain. I went to the infirmary in Guben. After 12 hours in the factory, I was barely able to go to the camp; some Polish, Jewish doctor said I needed surgery. With a pair of scissors, and no shots, he performed the surgery on me- I had blood poisoning. He saved my life. During the ‘surgery’ I shouted at the top of my lungs. My legs were completely blue, like stone. Afterwards, the guard in charge, a fat lady, hit me very hard. Apparently, I woke her up with my screaming.

I was in so much pain, I could only see stars. One good thing came out of this- I got to spend two weeks in the infirmary, doing no work. I got stronger, but my wounds didn’t heal. For 2 weeks, I showered, rested and laundered my clothes. Some days I didn’t wear clothes at all, because it would take three days for my clothes to dry. I only wore my raincoat during these times, I’d turn blue I was so cold. I always thought about my parents; the words that were not said, the things we didn’t do, always ran through my head.

I’m surprised and amazed how I stayed alive through all of this, while around me thousands died. It was only my strong will that wanted to live, no matter what, that kept me alive. I didn’t get depressed like the others, I feared death too much. I believe in my heart there would be an end to this suffering.

[Journal skips to December 12th, 1981]

Another year has passed. I’m 53 now. The years pass so fast. I have to hurry and write. The Holocaust made a lot of people authors and writers. People not ordinarily able to write books, following the Holocaust, have felt the need to write to ease their pains. And need to tell what happened “there”. The next generation should know the tragedy and never forget.

I didn’t fear jail, I heartily ate everything given to me. No one bothered me and I was free to explore every corner. Everything was interesting to me, I didn’t panic.

Even though my parents were there three days before me, I managed by myself in the ghetto. We got free soup. The community got money from folks like my parents. I stood waiting for my soup, in line, among these poor people. And everyone saw that I was the rich child standing in line. After two days, I was freed.

My parents paid money, so we were able to get food. I was fifteen and a half at the time, and was not particularly sad or depressed. I took it all pretty well. I went outside in the ghetto and found friends from school with whom to spend time. After 6 weeks in the ghetto, we were moved to the brick factory. My parents were depressed, sleeping in mattresses outdoors. I can’t remember if we even washed while in the brick factory. The expelling of Jews started a week later.

We were taken by cattle trains, about 60 – 80 per car. Typically these cars were used for 6 – 8 horses. They kept cramming more and more of us into the cars. Women, men, children and the elderly. Sick and healthy. They gave us two buckets; one for our needs and the other for drinking. We had to do our needs in front of everyone, just like the Middle Ages. I could barely rest. I couldn’t even straighten out because of the crampedness. People cried, screamed and coughed. There was barely anything to eat in the cars, only what we brought along with us.

My parents and I kept our cool, not crying nor screaming. What help would that have been?

The days were ok, the nights were inhuman. During these five days, some of the elderly and babies died along the way. For 5 days, only a few of the people in the car could pour out the excrements that stunk unbearably. They put the drinking bucket for all of us in the car, and the doors would close again. I was one among millions who suffered intolerably. The suffering was beyond human comprehension. And with that, Hungary was free of its Jews. We obviously didn’t know where we were headed. [On June 13, 1944, my Grandmother arrived at Auschwitz].

I had never heard of Auschwitz, it’s possible my parents had, but they never spoke about it in front of me. After 5 days, we got to Auschwitz. We got off the cars, surprised to see thousands of others do the same. The Germans went on loud speakers, and they said to leave our stuff on the car. We stood in a line 5×5 together. I saw a big road with wire mesh. There were dozens of Germans with polished boots and trained dogs around us. Many carried whips in their hands and kept everyone in order. Inmates helped the elders and babies off the train. It was all staged. The impression was that everything is OK, and this was a good environment. This calmed us down. Quiet classical music was playing there, the Jewish band played this happy music for us. The Germans like order and this created a peaceful atmosphere.

I could see smoke coming out of buildings, I still didn’t know this was the crematorium. Day and night, the spat smoke. I thought maybe it was a factory we’d work at. We were told we’d be working. We stood on the platform. At the start of the line stood Dr. Mengele. The famous hangman, he was handsome and elegantly dressed, with a whip in his hand.

We stood in line, men in one line, women in another line. I walked with my mom, arm in arm. Obviously I didn’t know what was going to happen. I looked around with no fear around me. I was a pretty young lady at 15 and a half.

My eyes met Mengele’s eyes. He saw me and screamed “HALT”. Thousands stopped walking. The doctor asked how old I was. With confidence and no fear, I said I was 15 and a half, in German. The entire place had come to a stop. He paused for a second, wondering if to send me to the left (to death) or to the right (to live). He was tapping his whip against his leg. He sent me to the right and my Mom to the left. My Mom was 49 then (almost 49 and a half).

And the line that stood still was now moving again. And with that wave of his hand, he sent thousands to their deaths. I undid arms with my mom, not saying anything, not knowing that I would never see her again.

If I had said to the doctor that I wanted to go with my Mom, he would have sent me to my death at the crematorium. To this day, I don’t know why I didn’t say I wanted to go with my Mom. This was the pre-planned thing ahead of time. Systematic murder. This was the final solution for Jews.

When I turned around, I couldn’t see my Mom, only my Dad who was taken to work with the other strong men. That was the last time I ever saw my parents. I knew nothing about my brother at this time. I followed the flow, there were thousands ahead and behind me. It never occurred to me that I would never see them again. Mom, Aunt, Grandparents, cousins, friends- all found their death in the gas chambers in Auschwitz.

No one came to help us, the world was completely indifferent to us. No one ever bombed the train tracks that brought us all in. Everyone plugged their ears, the systematic murder didn’t bother anyone. That’s why the Germans could do what they pleased. The Jew was a germ that could be destroyed. Leave no memory at all of them. That’s why the gas chambers worked day and night. They could kill “only” thousands per day.

We were helpless there, sitting behind electric barbed wires. Gradually the numbers went down, the camp started emptying out. We were like prey in a trap, sitting in the camp. We stood in the area in front of our camp for morning. It took forever. I was there for a little more than 5 months. We stood in fives in a line, heads shaved, in fact, our entire bodies were shaved. We wore clothes nobody wanted. We felt like we were not human. We experienced tremendous hunger. It’s hard to imagine how much hunger affects our ability to think. After the count, the handsome, elegant SS men allowed us back in our bunks.

My cousin did hard work, my Grandmother did simple work. Both were selected for the crematorium.

The bunk was a 3 story bed, and there were 13. My cousin and I, and 11 other girls we knew shared this place. We tried to chat about the past and our families. It was not particularly sad initially. We didn’t really know what was going on or what was going to happen.

We got bitter coffee at dawn. I almost never had any. I stayed hungry until lunch, at which time we got soup with horse meat and potatoes. It was a big pot with lots of soup. Fat, strong women distributed the food, along with big milk jugs. Those distributing stole the meat and potatoes for themselves.

We were weak and pale. Everyone shared in this soup because we didn’t have our own utensils. We would each take 10 “sips” in order. For three weeks I didn’t taste the soup. Not because of its blandness, I just couldn’t eat from mouth to mouth; used to the richness at home. My cousin Marika, advised me to close my eyes, ears and nose, and I started eating the soup.

On the first day, I got some sweet cream of wheat in water, and it was pretty good. The distributors stole some for themselves and friends and left us with very little to eat. In the afternoons we stood again for counting, always 5×5. Thousands of women. We got bread and jam/margarine/bad cheese from the Germans. Things they wouldn’t have eaten.

I remember five crematorium chimneys vividly. The fire from them was going up to the sky. Even at night, there was light like in the morning, and it constantly smelled of burnt meat. It was the smell of people who were alive just yesterday or the day before. Children, babies, elders, sick, thin- their fate was sealed. People like us who had laughed, enjoyed life, got mad, were all going up in flames in the crematoriums. But the hearts were closed. Only the darkness stayed. And the world was indifferent. People were indifferent, it wasn’t their business what was going on with us.

We had a strange bathroom. Thirty two thousand women used the bathroom. It always smelled of chlorine, it was a terrible place. When we did our needs, next in line rushed us, because there were only a few minutes. There was no paper. We took out cotton from blankets from the cars and we used this to wipe.

All 13 of us used old cotton blankets to keep warm. Those that didn’t have blankets couldn’t wipe with anything. We were like animals in the wild. We were embarrassed. There was no humanity towards us. With no personal belongings, nothing left to us, no toothbrush, no comb, not a tissue for our nose, no pens, no soap. After a while, we came to know that they made soap out of human dust. The soap was made out of ash.

All we did was lay down. We spoke of food all the time. Later we talked only about bread. I wish we could have eaten dry bread. We would have been able to eat a lot. My cousin Marika was 16, and didn’t know this was going to be her last birthday. She was always strong, healthy and well built her whole life. As opposed to me- I was always thin, sick, short and seemed 2 years younger than my real age. The irony was that she passed away and I stayed alive.

I told friends that we need to celebrate her birthday. We bought cabbage and bread. We worked our connections, sold for 1 bread slice in exchange for 1 cabbage. For her birthday, we all slept on the same level. We had slices of bread with cabbage, potato, horse meat and butter on top of it. She got 12 slices of bread from us. I didn’t watch her eat because I was so starving. It was a delicacy. I would have given years of my life just to have those, if I could have.

Everyone gave her thin slices, except for me. With a broken heart, I gave her a thick slice. Our stomachs always murmured from hunger. When we finally fell asleep, despite the noise (about 1000 of us in a tent), in 1 big place, we always dreamt of food. We would eat until completely full and satisfied. The only thought on our minds was the food.

The pain and suffering was more than we could handle. Every night, we were awakened at 1:30am for counting. We stood in order. My kidneys started hurting. One morning I fainted from pain. I was sent to the ambulance. It was very nice there, though there was no treatment. We could have laid there all day, there was no crowding, no morning count.

We even got milk and water. I would have been willing to stay there forever. I was warned not to stay too long, because it was from there that you were sent to the crematorium. After 2 days I returned to my block. In the meantime, my shoes were stolen. It was my last belonging from home. When I was sent to the right [initially, upon arriving at Auschwitz], I was sent to shower. I was only allowed to keep my shoes. I was given a dress. I wasn’t even allowed to keep my underwear. Just my dress and my shoes. Now I was left with torn shoes.

I bought underwear for three bread meals. For three days, I was so starving, human imagination cannot begin to fathom. I almost died of starvation. I had soup once a day, it was the only thing I ate at that time. But it was still worth it. We stood 5×5 hugging each other to keep warm until the count. My underwear kept me slightly warmer and I didn’t faint anymore.

Of the 13 girls, only my friend Lola- who was a pretty girl, and I had known her for years in school- followed me to the ambulance. She didn’t want to leave there, even though I encouraged her to leave with me. Since then, I have never seen her again. She was sent to a different block. She sent me a message to come visit her. It was impossible. There were big electric wire fences between blocks, guarded by nazis. No one could cross. Only those in charge of us and food distributors could cross.

And that’s how I lost a great friend, I was sad without her. Her fate was clear to me.

After my release from Sweden, I wrote to her dad and her brother about what happened to her. From time to time they took us to showers, gave us soap from human ashes, and with no choice, washed with them. They took our clothes that were disinfected, ugly clothes that the Germans didn’t want. And so my underwear were taken away from me, those I paid with blood for.

I cried a lot after losing my underwear. I had no others. In September and October it was very cold in Europe at night. Again, my kidneys started hurting intolerably. Dr. Mengele came to check up on us every two weeks and we knew what that meant. Some of us were sent to the crematoriums. Some were sent to work for Germany. From time to time I could hide among hundreds in the bathroom. I didn’t want to be exposed as very weak and thin. But in time, they guarded us tighter so we wouldn’t run away. Unfortunately I was selected for those who would be sent to the crematorium.

We walked in front of him, 25 of us girls, 5×5. Some of us had scabies, due to the dirt and inability to shower. I had a wound on my stomach, a sure sign of scabies. In the Dr.’s eyes, nothing went unnoticed, you could not hide anything. He immediately saw this and asked if itched. Obviously, I said, “no, not at all,” calmly. I knew very well that my life hung on my lie, but it still didn’t help.

We were locked in the room of the officer, who was Jewish. We were 100 girls, crammed like sardines, screaming, crying, pounding on the door. After the selection, the officer opened the door. We all quickly spread out, running around. I happened to join some other group that was headed to work. That saved my life. The officer was punished, made to run around the camp with a block on her head. (We sent her flowers in the year 2000).

One week later, there was another selection, but no Dr. Mengele this time. This time around, my stomach wound went unnoticed. Luckily for me, the illness did not spread. I was selected to do work. Others went to the crematorium. My cousin, who now looked two years older, also went to work. We separated, she went to another big block. I was alone with no friends or acquaintances. In the afternoon hours, in the free moments in between blocks, I found my cousin Marika. I asked her if we could stay together, and if she’d come back to our old block. I told her that they’ll take her for hard work, where all the strong girls and women were. Marika completely refused to come back, saying the opposite, that they’ll take us to the crematorium. I also refused to go to her for fear of hard work.

And after 6 months I saw her in Guben. I had underwear, soap and I could shower. I had a summer dress and rain coat, and a short sleeve. We got in train cars again, used for cattle. There was an oven with lots of coal on the train. The Germans kept their eyes on us, always keeping the place warm. They were burning coals for heat. It was burning days and nights. As the skinniest person, I had to stay standing, as there was no room to sit. I asked to sit down, but no one listened to my request. With no choice, I slept naked right by the burning coals. I thought I’d burn to death. We were on the train 2 or 3 days. It stopped many times. At the stop we’d get bread, margarine or even a bit of horse meat. I ate it all immediately, I didn’t want it stolen. I had been without food for longer. Finally we got to Guben, Germany, about 40 kilometers from Berlin. This was mid-October 1944. When I came off the train it was cold and raining in Guben.

I almost burnt and was black from sleeping so close to the coal. I thought I’d die of starvation and the extreme cold penetrating under my thin summer dress. And my shoes almost ripped, and the wind kept blowing and blowing. Even the Germans were very cold even though they had warm clothes and they made us run. We got to the camp from the train in an hour of running. We got a plate, cup and spoon. They told us not to lose these, because we wouldn’t get others. These were my only personal belongings after about 5 months of suffering in Auschwitz.

To this day I don’t know how I survived this suffering. Perhaps the promise of warm soup kept me alive. And they actually did give us warm soup. The only warm food after a few days. It was the first time I ate out of my own plate instead of something shared by 13. The quick ones were able to stand in line again. I was not quick enough. I also wouldn’t dare, I didn’t want to be beaten by the Germans. What I would have given for another plate of soup. I would have given my soul. I also got two small warm potatoes. I warmed my hands on them. I could barely hold my plate in my hands. I then went to little shacks. There were many rooms in every shack. In each room there were 24 people. I had two thin blankets and my own bed. The shack was not warmed. I could not sleep I was so cold. The strong ones were sent to work, but I was weak and thin, looking 12 years old. I was sent to clean the shacks initially. There was horrible filth. There was a bathroom in the corner of the shack for those needing to go at night, though typically needs were done either in the hall or on the floor. It was cold at night and running to the bathroom was too far. I spent many hours cleaning the excrement. Afterwards, we sat in the shed, cleaning beets for animal feed.

Sometimes, while separating out the spoiled beets, with my dirty hands, I’d quickly put a piece in my mouth while the Germans were watching over us. We worked very hard. Others were in the factory where it was warmer. After a few weeks, I asked the officer to put me in the factory too, as opposed to cleaning the excrement.

All day long I was in the shack or shed. My hands and legs were frozen and blue. Each evening we stood in line to get our bowl of soup, my frozen hands barely able to hold the plate. The soup would often spill on my raincoat. I cried horribly, cried, cried, and couldn’t stop. I was so hungry and tired and weak, all I wanted was a warm room and a warm bowl of soup. That was my dream. I thought it would never happen. How much can man suffer. He can suffer more than any animal, that was my thought.

I started working in the factory. At least it wasn’t so cold there. Even the Germans worked there. I was the smallest, youngest person there. I looked 12 [she is roughly 16 here]. One time, a German lady called to me, pitying me. I pointed to myself. She nodded. I feared going to her. I asked a big lady to come with me to the German lady. She had long, thick socks and wanted to give them to me. The socks were in my hand, and I was unboundedly happy. The big lady wanted to see them. Big, new socks. The big lady took them from me and never returned them, keeping them for herself. But the German lady gave them to me, not her. Who could I turn to for justice? No one cared, even if I had died at that moment. I cried and cried. We were roughly 100 ladies in this place. 24 were Polish. They were very quick and experienced, having done this before. Some worked in the kitchen making food, and they had a lot to eat, not looking skeletal like those of us walking on two feet.

Due to lack of food and vitamins, I started getting infectious wounds. To this day the scars are still on me. The Poles were very quick. Since our room was right next to theirs, I realized they stole my blanket. They made gloves, hats and socks with this. This made the suffering worse, having no blanket. One day they went to the morning count, I snuck a blanket from them back. I kept my body in it all the time so it wouldn’t be stolen again. I was working 12 hours a day in the factory, working for food, suffering.

Christmas came. We got coals to warm our room, and a small box of preserved meat. In the factory, for my quick and hard work, I was rewarded. You could get a toothbrush or snail with spoiled mayo. When my name showed up in the rewards section, I wanted a brush, but another cup of food was tough to pass up, so I selected the snails. They were pretty gross, moving in there. I gave some to the ladies in my group, the rest I ate by myself with some potatoes. I ate in the dark so as not to see what I was eating.

After Christmas, there were some good days of warming up our shack. January and February were so cold, I felt my soul was going to freeze to death. My dress was not helping to keep me warm. It was so bad, I slept in a small infirmary shack for a week. This was the second time.

Good news finally came to us. The fall of the Germans started. Near our camp, there was a French refugee camp. They also worked in the factory with us. They got a message from the Red Cross. They were prisoners of war, unlike us, we were treated as less than human. They even had newspapers. Some of the quick ones among us were able to get food from the French. One day refugees came to us, and slowly more and more, thousands, in fact. We had to share our food with even more people. They cut our bread supply.

There were lots of refugee camps around. The US entered from the outside. I saw my cousin in March of 1945, after 6 months. She was looking very weak and indifferent. She endured 12 hours a day of standing work, with rags on her feet. Nothing mattered to her. Americans came in, coming to liberate their camp. The Germans said if you can walk, you will walk, and they didn’t tell us where we were going. They said if you can’t walk, then take train cars. I refused to walk, with all my wounds. Even though we assumed we’d die if we took the train, we decided to take the train no matter what.

We were given a slice of bread, some meat, maybe margarine, then we got on the train cars. On every train, we presumed, people were killed on board. On this train, nothing happened. It took us 5 days to get to Bergen-Belsen. There was no roof on the train, and it snowed for 5 days. We were totally frozen at Bergen-Belsen.

Everyone was free to go wherever they wanted. I went to a shack, it was very packed, everyone was laying on the ground. I said to my cousin that we should find another place. We went to another shack with everyone again on the ground. We went to a third place, where everyone was sick, so there were lots of places there. Marika didn’t want to move again. Everyone had typhus, so I told here I was not staying. She had no more strength, so Marika stayed, at least there was place to rest. I went elsewhere. I went to a very packed place, and found a small spot. I went to visit Marika 2 or 3 days later, but never saw her again. Dozens died everyday, there were dead all the way up to the ceiling and more. This was May 1945, roughly.

There was very little food. There were so many dead and sick and dirty, I got typhus with fever. Bedbugs, large ones, all over my body. I was so sick and weak from illness, I found a box and did my needs in there. I took the bedbugs and threw them into the box, I couldn’t even get up. I held on to the window sill and threw them out of the window as well. The Germans escaped. The Americans and British came in and didn’t know what to do.

We got white beans, condensed milk and we were all eating this on an empty stomach. I had horrible diarrhea. Terrible. I couldn’t get up I was so weak. I could already see the end. There was no water, but there was a dirty pool with a dead body in it. I drank from this water since I had no choice.

The Americans seeing all of us, brought Germans to help out. I was put in a stretcher and taken to shower. I got washed laying down. There were wounds all over my body, plus bedbug bites. “Is the water too warm?” they asked. I couldn’t even answer, I shook my head “no”. I got new, clean pajamas. Then taken to barracks, with no beds. They got Hungarians and Germans to work for them to help out. So we got hay mattresses, then put on a cover and then I was happy. I was given coal for diarrhea. This didn’t stop, things kept flowing. Tons of food was brought in. Hungarian and Germans soldiers distributed food. I laid in bed all the time. Slowly I was starting to feel a little bit better.

I could see that I was getting healthier. I got into a terrible depression. There was lots of food and I didn’t want to eat. There was just a slice of bread hidden under my pillow. I cried, but I was too weak to actually do so. I had no tears I was so weak. What happens if I stay alive? Where will I go? What will I do? What do I have?

I didn’t eat anything but the slice of bread. My diarrhea continued. I was able to walk by holding the wall in order to go to the bathroom at this point. Two Greek Nuns brought me bed frames. They also gave me a piece of chocolate. I was so depressed, I threw it out, I didn’t even want it. I didn’t care if I lived or not. Doctors came and went, 1 more, 1 less, didn’t matter.

A bird came to my window and chirped. I saw it and my tears started flowing, all of a sudden. I will decide to live, maybe there will be someone. I got up and showered by myself. I fainted while showering. No one picked me up. I have no idea when I came to. No one cared. I met with a Miskolc acquaintance. “Did you sign up to go to Sweden?” she asked. “I didn’t sign up, I didn’t even know”, I replied. “Go run quickly, because they already closed the list.” I went to sign up, but they had closed, but somehow they still let me get on the list.

They gave me an ugly dress, underwear and an undershirt. I was taken to Sweden by train after the liberation. I passed through Lubeck, the German border [with Denmark]. I ended up in Malmo, Sweden. I was quarantined for 3 weeks. I laid down all day there. I got medicine from doctors. Somehow I recovered. I was at Loka Brunn spa area, and it was there that I recovered.

I started going to school. I learned Swedish and English history. I had a Hungarian teacher, and we were 20 Hungarian students, all women. It was not bad at all. I recovered somehow.

It started getting very cold, possibly around October ’45. I studied at a boarding school in the mornings and afternoons. People came from Palestine (1946, January/February). They visited about 40 schools. They wanted to give us a school certificate. Because I had a brother, an Aunt, and an Uncle, in a Kibbutz in Palestine (Kibbutz Ha Ogen), they recommended to take me there.

In May 1946, I was headed to Israel, the only one among the kids that got taken. I took the train to Stockholm. There was no one waiting for me at Stockholm. I was in school for a year in Sweden so I could speak Swedish. Eventually a man came late to take me. There were 600 refugees taken from Bergen-Belsen to Sweden. Most these were children. From my school, I was the only one to survive.

There was a big party for us Jews in Stockholm. From Stockholm we were taken by boat to Marseille, France. There was lots of food on the boat, I fattened up. There wasn’t much food in Sweden. I was not starving, but not too much food there. A Cairo ship took us from Marseille to Israel. I had a bit of Swedish money so I bought some cherries in France. I got an allowance in Sweden, so I also bought a watch there.

When I arrived in Israel, it was in Haifa. I met my Uncle Ferry at the Haifa Harbor. Then I was taken by bus to “Bet Olim” [place for new immigrants]. Everyone went to the kibbutz so I went along. Kibbutz Dganya Bet. This was near the Sea of Galilee, near Tverya. There was lots of food there. I fattened up even more there. There were only Jews there. For two years I worked half a day, and studied the other half. [I believe she got there May 26th, 1946]. I worked very hard. The British left in ’47. Israel became a country in ’48. We danced in the streets and were so happy that Israel became a country. Nearby Arabs were shooting at us with guns, so women and children had to leave. I got chicken pox but still left the place. I got on a bus to leave.

Along the way, one of the nights sleeping in a tent, a tent near mine was shot up with bullets, though it was empty. Again, all the women, children and ladies fled. I moved on to Kibbutz Gineh Gar. I was there until I recovered from the chicken pox, 2 weeks maybe.

My brother was in Haifa in the meantime, in the Technion University. He worked and studied. He became a Mechanical Engineer. I visited my brother there in Haifa. I paid rent there. I considered moving to the Negev but my brother said not to go, that two folks had just died there.

So I moved on to Kibbutz Givot Zayit. I went there with some group. I would have stayed there, but the Kibbutz came apart. So I came back to Haifa where I worked as a waitress in a restaurant. Things didn’t work out after a while there, so I became a house cleaner.

It was actually while in Kibbutz Givot Zayit that I met [my Grandfather] David. I was out dancing with a friend and the friend’s boyfriend. The boyfriend knew that folks at David’s table and that’s how we met.

Partisans Storm the town of Lenin

Part 1

My Grandfather Yehuda with his first wife, who perished at the hands of the Nazis

On March 15, 1941 I was drafted into the Red Army, there I served until the day the Nazi army invaded Russia. I was anxious about the well-being of my family members and their fate, and without asking permission from my superiors, I escaped to my house. A few days had passed, and our town was conquered by Hitler’s soldiers. I was among those that were sent by the Nazis to work in the town of Natsvitch as a slave laborer.

Here came the bitter news about the community massacre in the town, the loss of all those dear to us, for whom we stuck our necks out in burdened, arduous slavery- which crushed our bodies and souls. We were misled to believe, maliciously by our Nazi captors, that as long as we were submissive to them in the labor camp, no harm would be inflicted upon those loved ones we left behind in our town. We saw ourselves as hostages in the hands of the killers who took the lives of the helpless souls in the town. Every moment, during the long working hours and the short resting hours prior to the massacre, we could imagine our children, wives, and elders spreading their hands towards us, begging “continue working any labor, do not rebel, lest you will bring destruction upon us!” – And we continued to suffer the torment of the body and soul.

And now, all was lost! We were left alone in this world without parents, spouses, children and siblings, and there is nothing more evil than that in the world. None of us hit his head on the wall and no one went out of his mind. The lust for vengeance took over us, and was like a fire burning in our bones. It united us. We were three hundred and fifty men and we decided to rebel- abandon our evil captors and flee to the surrounding forests to wander the paths that would lead to the Partisans’ squadrons. We avoided arguing, because time was pressing. Only a few remained in the camp, as they didn’t have the strength to take this dangerous step. We decided that in order to make it more difficult for our enemies to chase after us, we had to arrange into groups that would run in different directions. No one among us knew how to break through a fence; an agreed upon sign was given and we all broke loose and ran into the forest, each group to its assigned direction.

Many of us were caught by the soldiers that were summoned to chase after us, and were killed along with those that had stayed behind in the camp. Many were hunted down- after wandering the forest for days and nights, hungry and thirsty- by the hands of the Russian and Polish peasants and turned over to the Nazis. About sixty men were able to save their souls and join various Partisan squadrons.

My friend Ze’ev Zavin and I wandered for a few days in the forest. We crossed ponds in the marshes of Pulse [region in South West Belarus] until we reached the town of Haritsinovich. There, we happened to see a squadron of Partisans one night. In that squadron we had a few acquaintances- they were the young farmers from our town. The squadron commander, Pavel Takovich, a farmer in the town of Zlochich who knew my father well, said that he was willing to accept us into his squadron, under the condition that we perform a specific assignment: derailing an enemy supply train. If we chose to accept the assignment, we would be able to join them and be treated as equal members of the squadron, but if not, he “would send us the way of brothers, with the rest of the Jews…” The farmer did not understand or sense that we expected and wished for an assignment such as this. We replied: “we can and we will do it”.

The commander quickly taught us how to handle explosives.

Together with a number of the fighters from the commander’s squadron we left for the location of the assignment. The fighters were instructed to show us the way and to ensure that we complete our assignment.

The commander, taking pity on his subordinates’ lives, was happy to come by us at random- two Jews, tortured and exhausted after journeying through, hungry and thirsty, day and night through the marshes of Richin.

Why would these two succeed? Better, then, to sacrifice these two poor, godless souls, rather than lose some of his loyal fighters.

He, himself, led us some of the distance, and would not stop lecturing us about the importance of the task at hand. He also explained the extent to which we would have to sabotage the enemy.

We were based in the marshes of Pulse, and we crossed lakes. Eventually we reached the railroad tracks. I will not describe the details of our actions. The main point was that we succeeded in derailing a large freight train from its tracks. We were told the train had forty three cars. From there we ran to the camping location of the squadron. The commander was very thankful and praised us. At that point he announced that from now on we would belong to his crew.

We were very pleased because we were able to harm our enemies. But we were not quite satisfied with our revenge.

Part 2

I said to the commander: look, our people are poorly dressed and without shoes, and here I know that after the massacre in our town, the Nazis deployed only a small force in Lenin. They moved their command headquarters to the Mikshevichi train station. Let’s attack the town, conquer it, and we’ll find lots of goods.

It was not easy to convince him. He was cautious and wasn’t rushing to put his fighters in danger. But I didn’t let it go. I talked, and repeated, and talked some more, until I finally convinced him. He called other partisan squadrons, and that’s how we assembled a force of one hundred and twenty men.

Our weapons supply and ammunition were meager: rifles were lacking, and the bullets too were very few. Days passed until we stocked up, and I was getting impatient. I was waiting impatiently and anxiously for the day I would exact my revenge, in the name of our dead.

One evening I was called to the Partisan headquarters. At that time I was presented to a man I had not seen before. Later, I became aware that the brigade was under his control. He turned to me and said: “I have been informed from your commander, Pavel, that you were the initiator of the upcoming operation we are preparing for now. That is why you will have to start it. I command you and your friend to go survey the town and bring back intelligence and accurate updates as far as what’s going on in there; there isn’t a man among us who is as qualified as you and your friend.”

Ze’ev Zavin and I left on our way, where death lurked at every step. Around midnight we came upon a poor shack located about one mile from Lenin. We knocked on the door. A Christian woman, roughly 40 years old, opened the door. We quickly forced our way in before the woman could shut the door and lock it. We saw another person in the shack, an old man laying down, who was sick, or was falling ill. The woman was scared and shocked to see two fully armed men. It looked like she realized that we were Jews, and knowing what transpired in our community, it only frightened her more. The old man, while laying down, prayed to God incessantly, his lips were uttering prayers, and maybe – swearing too… the woman stood frozen in place and remained speechless for a moment.

We took advantage of the situation and asked her:

- Where is your husband? In service with the Germans?

The woman breathed deep and began speaking in a weeping voice:

- No, no! We are not serving the Germans.

- So where is your husband?

- I don’t have a husband. I had a husband, but he died many years ago.

- And the Germans visit you at this place?

- Why would they visit? They already took everything from us, including the pigs and the chickens.

- But we know that you visit the town of Lenin where you serve the Germans.

- No, no! The woman screamed. I don’t like them… I hate them.

- Let’s see if you’re telling the truth. Tell us how many Germans are in the town, and in which houses they stay.

She started talking and it appeared to us that she was telling the truth. Her fears were seemingly fading away as she continued to speak. As we were listening to her with trust, she voluntarily told us that the number of Nazi murderers was not small at all, and that we would need to be prepared for serious combat.

They were lodged in the section of the street between the Bruchins house and Jacob Karvits’ house. Their headquarters and storage pad were at the Rodnichki house near Yisrael Galinson’s house.

I returned to the brigade commander and shared with him everything I had learned. He warned me and said: “You should know that you are being held responsible for the information you supplied us, and also the results of this military operation, and if you get us in trouble, I will behead you like a decapitated dog, you will die a dog’s death.” I replied: “I am here at your will and I will do everything I can. I know the entrances to the town and I believe and am certain that we will succeed.”

He looked me in the eye and shook my hand. He then put ten fighters under my command. We were designated as the lead group. We carefully advanced to the outskirts of the town in the dark of night. I placed each soldier under my command at their own position. The commander ordered to start by attacking, at 3am, following his signal of a red trace bullet. At 3am, everyone was already at their position, and all this was done completely silently. The murderers in the town did not know or sense any of the imminent attack. Impatiently we waited for the zero hour.

Finally, the red trace bullet flew, and we bombarded the town from all sides. The bombardment continued, without pause, until 8am, but the murderers fortified in their houses and it was difficult to penetrate in there. We found a barrel of fuel. Crawling, we rolled the barrel under Joseph Zaratchki’s house, and we lit it on fire. The house was instantly engulfed in flames, and the stampede of the murderers began. I had one more task, to blow up the storage house, the Rodnichki house. I threw two hand grenades through the windows of the house. Following the sound of the explosion, we entered the house and saw that all the town looted property was piled up, with plenty of silver and gold. Our brothers and sisters brought all these to the murderers, as they were promised that with these, their own lives and those of their households would be spared. The Nazis ran for their lives, leaving the burning town, having left behind more than ten dead.

Part 3

I turned to the commander:

- I did everything I was tasked with- let me take a leave for a few hours!

- Leave?! – The commander was surprised – what do you need a leave for?

- I wish to roam a bit in the streets of the town, perhaps I will find some of our Jewish brothers.

- And what in your mind makes you think that there are survivors after the destructive operations of the sackers?

- I heard that a number of people survived, and also the woman who gave us all of our information confirmed it– and so far everything she had said was all accurate.

The commander saw my emotional plea, understood my need:

- Fine, go, and may God help you, but be careful, the town is in flames. Here and there you can run into a Nazi murderer or a few of them.

I headed off and ran among burning houses and suffocating pillars of smoke, my face towards the ghetto. Near Kusheh Gelinson’s house I bumped into a young man from the Flostvitch village, in a Nazi policeman uniform, a hired gun for the Nazis. He saw me and remained standing as if stuck to the ground. I didn’t think too much, and shot the Nazi collaborator with my new weapon, a powerful weapon I picked up from one of the dead Nazis. The Nazi collaborator fell and died on the spot. I continued to run, passed the bridge above the lake and reached our family house at the edge of the town. I stood in front of our house, no sound and not a soul. There was this deadly odd silence in the house as it was empty of its inhabitants. I remembered that this was the house where I had my birthdays, where I grew up, where a loving mom hugged me and cared for me. I stood in front of the house, my heart was beating hard. I made a big effort to move myself away from the place. The priest’s wife came out- their house stood right next to ours- and told me that at Abraham-Isaac Heinich’s house there were more than twenty Jews the Nazis did not kill. I quickly ran over there, and after a few minutes I was surrounded by some people from our community who survived the massacre. Among them were Yehuda Schuester and his family, Nushka’s daughter and her husband and twin babies on her arms.

The survivors of our community were looking at me as a savior. Nushka’s daughter sobbed: “What will I do? Where will I go and escape with these two infants?” My heart was bleeding for them, I was consoling them, encouragingly saying: “God who saved you so far, will also rescue you in the coming days.”

What else could I do for them, in my hands only a loaf of bread and a pack of butter? I handed those over for the infants.

I was still talking to them, and Moshe Rabinovich and his family came by. He sobbed, thanked me and fell on my neck with tears and kisses. He also asked where they could all go and what they could all do.

I instructed everyone how to get to the place where our brigade was stationed, but I immediately reconsidered and decided to lead them all the way to where the fighters waited for us, for fear that our fighter s would inadvertently harm them. After we all arrived safely there, I was given the order to set the town on fire.

I first lit Hillel Epstein’s house on fire, where half the town’s jewelry was piled.

As I walked away, Herman came towards me, brother of Henkah. Herman’s sons took part in the massacre of our community with his avid approval shot and killed him in the name of our community.

After that, Ze’ev and I walked to the holy and pure graves of our community. The mass graves had risen a bit above their surroundings. The blood trails still were not wiped out. Near the graves, we found piles of women’s hair. We both stood crying with tears.

In the meantime the Nazi murderers regrouped, brought in reinforcement and began shooting at us.

We were forced to say one final goodbye to our loved ones, forever, and returned to the marshes and forests to continue battling with the Nazis.

We both swore, Ze’ev and I, that if one of us were to survive the horrendous war, we would tell the other’s story to their friends. Here, I ask, is where Ze’ev’s name will be memorized, in the history book of our town. Ze’ev died in the battlefield.

I have captured only a part of the things my eyes saw and I experienced, I couldn’t bear to describe more, because each time I think about the horrors we experienced, it brings back the painful memories. The sad memories cause me to be deeply shocked and shaken my heart is filled with a deep grief and depression like no other.