Karen Treiger's Blog, page 10

A Visit with Sam and Esther – Prelude to Poland

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When we talk to someone at their grave, can they hear us? 

I hope so because yesterday my daughter Shoshana and I visited the graves of Sam and Esther Goldberg, just down the way from Beit Shemesh, Israel.  I spoke to the graves and told them that the book is out – that people are reading all about their lives.

The graves did not speak back and I have no idea what they would say if they could.   But as I visited this  place of contemplation and memory, I thought about all those who died in the Holocaust who have no grave, no place for their loved ones to pause and reflect, no place to tell the world that this person was once here on earth. 

The grave is a stark, but somehow comforting reminder of the person.  As I placed a stone on Sam and Esther’s graves, I felt their presence.   Shoshana and I reflected about our visits to Miami when the kids were young and how we would swim in the Atlantic Ocean and watch boxing on the TV with Sam. 

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In the evening, Shoshana and I ate at our friends’ restaurant – Taco Luis – highly recommend it – and we visited the Jerusalem Shuk after dark.  A magical place. 

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My visit in Israel is a pit stop – on my way to Poland.   I am heading back to Sam and Esther’s place of birth to launch the Polish translation of My Soul is Filled with Joy.  Exactly three years ago, when we first met Jan, Janina and Eugeniusz Stys, I told them that once I publish the book, I hoped to have it translated to Polish so that they could read it.    Well, Jan and Janina have left the physical world and we only have a grave to visit.  But Eugeniusz and his wife Alina are still living in Stare Lipki and next Monday, I will have the honor and privilege to place a Polish book into the hands of the man who brought food to Sam and Esther as they hid in the forest pit.

Stay tune for blog posts from Poland!      

How Do They Celebrate Anne Frank’s 90th Birthday in Boise, Idaho?

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How do they Celebrate Anne Frank’s 90th Birthday in Boise, Idaho?

A.      Eat Potatoes?

B.      Write in a Diary?

C.       Gather teachers in a room to study the Holocaust?

D.      Go to a Neo-Nazis rally?

E.       Hear some klezmer music, memorialize Anne Frank and listen to a presentation about Sam and Esther Goldberg?

[Answer:  C & E]

Yes, that’s right in the heart of downtown Boise, on sunny, 90-degree days, a group of teachers gathered for three days to listen and learn about ways to teach the Holocaust.  The Wassmuth Center for Human Rights brought Sherry Bard of the ADL to town for a three-day teacher training.  I sat in on yesterday morning’s session and got a glimpse of what she shares with the teachers all over the country.

Using Echoes and Reflections a joint, on-line project of ADL, the Shoah Foundation and Yad Vashem, teachers have a huge variety of resources from which to draw – timelines, videos, lesson plans, activities, and much more.   Among the things Sherry shared were some excerpts from a young diarist that I had not heard of – Dawid Sierakowiak.    Dawid began his diary at a Zionist youth camp before the Germans invaded Poland on September 1, 1939.    His family was in the Lodz Ghetto and like his more famous diarist, Anne, he continued to make entries until he died in the ghetto of hunger and exhaustion on August 8, 1943.  Dawid had just turned 18.  I ordered the book and look forward to reading Dawid’s words.  I think I’ll read it in Poland (will be there in 12 days).  That seems appropriate.   That the lives of these teenagers (Anne died at 15) was cut short by Jew Hatred makes the lives of my own children even more precious.

 

 

Today these teachers will be privileged to visit Boise’s Human Rights -Anne Frank Memorial.  This is the only memorial to Anne Franke in the United States.  I experienced this thoughtful, contemplative place on Tuesday afternoon with one of the Memorial’s founders, Lisa Uhlman.  Lisa was a consummate host for my two and a half day visit in Boise.  We had a brief tour of the newer section by another Lisa, one of the twenty docents who take approximately 20,000 students and adults through the Memorial each year. 

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The Memorial is a peaceful, serene place where voice boxes are interspersed throughout.  Press a button and you will learn about the Holocaust, Anne Frank, other genocides that have ravaged our planet, and more.  The full text of the Declaration of Human Rights is etched in stone as are other deeply thoughtful quotes from the likes of Ghandi, Eleanor Roosevelt, Martin Luther King, Jr. – to name a few. 

The memorial also includes several sculptures, two of which moved me deeply – one is of Anne Frank, looking out her window at the “tree” that she writes about in her diary.   Another sculpture, done by Ken McCall, is stark in design and message – “Spiral of Injustice.”  The bonds that wrap the sculpture, as if a captive, include the following words:  Language; Avoidance; Discrimination; Violence; Elimination (in English, Hebrew and Japanese).  These words show the way in which hateful language can spiral into avoidance of the “other”, then further to discrimination, violence and ultimately elimination.  There is an interactive board that explains the stages of the spiral with examples from Boise’s own history.  

 

“The Memorial showcases the power of words,” Dan Prinzing, the passionate director of the Wassmuth Center for Human Rights, which runs the Memorial, explained to the teachers gathered.  One of the teachers, Ben, will be going to Poland with a Yad Vashem teacher’s training group in July.  We discussed his great fortune in being accepted into this program of 20 teachers.

I too believe in the power of words – and I had the honor, last night, to share many words with a group of 100 who joined together to memorialize Anne Frank on what would have been her 90th birthday.  I tied Sam and Esther’s story to Anne Frank with the idea of becoming invisible.  Anne and her family became invisible by hiding in the Annex behind the bookshelf for two years, until they were betrayed and arrested.  Sam and Esther became invisible by living in a pit, covered with brush to keep their presence unknown.  

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The group was a welcoming bunch and I deeply appreciate their warmth and friendship.  This was the first time I had a warm-up band – a three-person Klezmer group played many of my favorite songs while the guests ate delicious desserts.  It is always better to eat before hearing someone talk about Treblinka!

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The Wassmuth Center for Human Rights partnered with Rediscover Books – to make my book available.  Thank you to Rediscover Books for bringing my book to Boise.

 

 

Now when I think of Boise – I won’t think of potatoes or Neo-Nazis, I will think of thoughtful, open-minded people who care deeply about learning and living to be kind, responsible humans living together in peace.  If you find yourself in Boise, be sure to visit the Anne Frank Memorial.

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Inheritors of Memories and Dreams

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We are in one the most horrible places on earth.

Here, at Birkenau, hundreds of thousands of Jews, almost one million Jews, were murdered.

Here is where I saw so many of my family, so many of my friends, for the very last time.

Here is where the smoke we saw rising to the sky was all that was left of children, women, and men who never did any harm to anyone, and who were tortured and killed by monsters.

My dear friend Hadassah Rosensaft, Menachem’s mother, said that after our liberation, we survivors were free from the fear of death, but not from the fear of life.

Today I speak not only for myself but for Hadassah, and for all my friends who were with me here at Birkenau, but who are not here anymore.

Hadassah was right. But this fear of life started for us long before the liberation.

Here in Birkenau, we were always afraid – afraid of being cold, afraid of being hungry, afraid of being beaten, afraid of being selected to die, afraid of seeing a member of our family or a friend selected to die. We all wanted desperately to live, but we knew that here tomorrow would not be better than today. We knew that the cold would continue, that the hunger would continue, that the SS and the kapos would continue to beat us. And we knew that many of the Jewish prisoners who were with us today would not be with us tomorrow.

But we also had dreams, even here in Birkenau.

We dreamed of our homes, of our parents, of our brothers and sisters. I dreamed about the life I had before the Germans came to Będzin and destroyed that life. I dreamed about the ghetto which seemed so bad, but was so much better than the hell of Auschwitz and Birkenau.

These dreams kept us human. They reminded us that we were better than those who wanted to kill us.

And each one of us also dreamed that the nightmare would end, and that we would be allowed to live again.

We dreamed that we would one day have homes again, and families, and nice clothes, and good food. Those dreams gave us a little hope.

I am here today with my daughter and my grandsons. I dreamed of you, that I would one day have you.

And I want to say to all the children and grandchildren of survivors here today: we all dreamed of you. We did not really believe that our hell would ever end, but we dreamed that it would, and that we would have you.

Here at Birkenau, I give you our memories and our dreams. They are your inheritance. Use them to fight against hatred, against injustice, and to prevent other genocides.

And never forget whose children and grandchildren you are.

Esther Peterseil, survivor or Auschwitz/Birkenau – August 2018.

 

I read these moving words that were quoted in an article published in Tablet by Menachem Rosensaft, the general counsel for the World Jewish Congress and a professor of law at Columbia and Cornell Law Schools.  I was privileged to meet Mr. Rosensaft two days ago in New York.

Mr. Rosensaft was born in Bergen Belsen, not when it was a concentration camp, but after the war, when it was transformed to a Displaced Person’s Camp in the British Zone of Germany.   Together with his parents, he moved from Bergen Belson to Switzerland and then, six years later, to the United States.  He is a Holocaust scholar, writer and teacher.  His work with the World Jewish Congress brings him in contact with the struggles and achievements of Jews all over the world.

His parents were from a region in Poland called Zaglembie (in Polish, Zagłębie), which had a Jewish population of 100,000 Jews in 1939.  In July of 2018, Mr. Rosensaft helped to organize and traveled with a group of survivors, children and grandchildren of survivors from the Zaglembie region of Poland.  

“During the course of the trip,” he writes, “we talked, cried together, sang together, sometimes even laughed together. We learned about one another, and discovered that we wanted to know more, about our families, about where we came from, and about one another. Being in Zaglembie made the past, our past, seem more real.”

There are those that believe Jews should not return to Poland.   But a return such as the one taken by Mr. Rosensaft, Ms. Peterseil and the other descendants from Zaglembie, enriched their lives with the music of the past and whispered secrets as they walked the streets of their childhood or the towns of their parents and grandparents.

I sense the power of that moment.  I felt it myself – as I stood in Bagatele in June of 2016, watching my four children stride towards their grandfather’s farm.  I too discovered that I wanted to know more as I felt the past push its way to the present and conflate time and space.  I felt that the Goldberg family ghosts were there.  They may have spoken the words intoned two years later by Esther Peterseil at Birkenau:

“I give you our memories and our dreams. They are your inheritance.”

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Jack, Elisheva, Esther and Shoshana Goldberg walking down the street of Bagatele.

Auschwitz, Not Long Ago, Not Far Away

“What do you think they sell at the gift shop at Auschwitz?” asked a senior from the Northwest Yeshiva High School who was sitting at our Shabbat table the week before going to Poland on the March for the Living.

“Shoes,” Shlomo responded.

With this response, Shlomo erupted in bursts of laughter while the students around the table stared dumbfounded – not knowing exactly how to respond to this Holocaust joke.

This moment flooded back to my mind as I stood in one of the first rooms of the special exhibit at the Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York called Auschwitz, Not Long Ago, Not Far Away.  In contrast to the exhibit at Auschwitz in Poland which has thousands of shoes jumbled in a heap, this exhibit displays one simple red shoe enclosed in a museum case, like a crowned jewel.  Behind the shoe is a photo of the shoes at the Auschwitz Museum.

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On the wall nearby, they have an excerpt of a poem titled I Saw a Mountain, by Moshe Schulstein (1974):

We are the shoes,

we are the last witnesses.

We are the shoes

from the grandchildren

and grandfathers,

From Prague, Paris

and Amsterdam,

And because we are only

made of fabric and leather

And not of blood and flesh,

Each one of us avoided

the hellfire.

If you are in New York, I highly recommend visiting the exhibit.   It’s artifacts, testimony and historical photos and video will take you on a journey through this dark history.   The visitor slowly wends their way through the early history of Nazi Germany, to the beginning of the war on September 1, 1939, the attack on the Soviet Union in June of 1941, to the mass murder by bullets in eastern Poland and the lands of the Soviet Union, to murder by gas.  The focus, of course, is on Auschwitz, but Treblinka, Sobibor, Belzec, Majdanek, and Chelmno got honorable mention.

I learned a few new things.  For example, I thought that the plan to send all the Jews to the French colony of Madagascar (an African Island), came about in 1940 after Germany conquered France and thus controlled the island.  But I learned that this terrific idea originated in 1885!  A German nationalist Paul de Lagarde suggested that all eastern European Jews be shipped to Madagascar.

After Germany attacked the Soviet Union, it is well known that they took millions of Soviet soldiers as prisoners.  Sam was one of them – captured in June of 1941 after the initial attack.   Sam described his short stay in the POW camp in Zembrow as one where they lay on the ground to sleep, were fed very little food and had only small amounts of water to drink.  This inhumane treatment of captured Soviet soldiers was repeated in POW camps throughout eastern Poland and the Soviet Union.  The exhibit has this photo of Soviet soldiers in a German POW camp – gives a visual to the imagined horrific situation.

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At the end of the war, the Germans destroyed much of Auschwitz/Birkenau, especially the gas chambers and the crematoria.   However, in the ruins of the Crematorium 2, a shower head used to gas the victims was found.  It is chillingly on display.

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Another artifact that nearly brought me to tears is this Tzitzit – tallit kattan – that was hidden by an Auschwitz inmate and made it out of the camp.  It is here to testify to the resilience of the Jewish people.

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Finally, I will share that the location of the Museum is purposeful.   As you look out the window, you see New York Harbor and Lady Liberty.  It was this statue that welcomed many of the survivors of the Holocaust, including Sam, Esther and Faiga Goldberg on May 28, 1949.

In 5 days – May 28, 2019 – it will be the 70th anniversary of the Goldberg family’s arrival in America.  Happy Anniversary!

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Johan van Hulst, Savior of 600 Jewish Children Dies at 107

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“The choices we make matter.”

This is a mantra I have been intoning as I make presentations about My Soul is Filled with Joy: A Holocaust Story.

Check out this story of how choices matter.

In the summer of 1943, Johan van Hulst, a non-Jew, smuggled 600 Jewish children out of Amsterdam to safety – saving them from death.  Mr. van Hulst recently died – on March 22 — in Amsterdam at the age of 107.

These children, ages infants to 12 years old, had been taken from their parents at the deportation center (parents went to Auschwitz and other concentration camps).  The children were brought to a nursery in Amsterdam.  That nursery was just next door to a teacher’s college where Mr. van Hulst was the principal.  Mr. van Hulst learned of the situation of the Jewish children and he constructed a plan to smuggle the children out of town.  The children were passed through the hedge between the buildings and hidden in classrooms until they could be transferred to the countryside.   They were orphans, but they survived the war in the countryside.

“We had to make a choice,” Mr. van Hulst told the Dutch broadcaster last year, “and one of the most horrible things was to make a choice.”  (He meant choosing which children to save – he could not save them all.)

But make a choice he did – he chose to help, to save, to put his own life at risk – to save these Danish Jewish children.  Emile Schrijver, general director of the Jewish Cultural Quarter in Amsterdam, flipped the idea of choice as stated by Mr. van Hulst and said that Mr. van Hulst had demonstrated that “we all have a choice to do the right thing at any time; even in times of enormous trouble; he used the power of disruption; disruption of an evil system and of the arrogance it entailed.”

The deportation center — a former theater — was managed by Walter Süskind, a German refugee.  He made the childrens’ names “disappear” from the deportation lists.

“That was the most difficult day of my life,” Mr. van Hulst told Yad Vashem, the Holocaust remembrance center in Jerusalem, which in 1972 named him , a designation for non-Jews who rescued Jews. He is one of 5,595 Dutch people given the honor.

The choices van Hulst made had a huge impact – let’s allow his choice to affect us – how do we make choices?   Please remember, our choices matter too.

Reference:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/04/01/obituaries/johan-van-hulst-who-helped-save-600-children-from-the-nazis-dies-at-107.html?fbclid=IwAR08lApXKwPsoktkbwa4H2AHEJ3YR5Pcfey3sMFqxI9oKqGxOYGLpR1_Szg

Yom HaShoah – A Day to Reflect Guest Writer – Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum

 

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I thought all week about what to post for Yom Hashoah, which begins this evening and takes us into Thursday.   But then I received in my in-box the thoughts shared by Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum, the Rabbi of Seattle’s Kavana community, with whom I have the honor of commemoration this evening.   Rabbi Nussbaum articulated many of my own thoughts and feelings – here are Rabbi Nussbaum’s meaningful words.

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Sometimes it’s hard for me to wrap my head around the time scale of Jewish history. A week and a half ago, we recalled the Exodus from Egypt, an event that took place some 3500 years ago, while sitting around Seder tables much like our rabbinic ancestors might have done 2000 years ago.  Our Jewish tradition connects us to the ancient past, and that is part of the great power of it.

Tonight, we mark Yom HaShoah and commemorate the Holocaust. This event took place a scant 75 years ago… truly, the blink of an eye, viewed against the backdrop of the Jewish timeline. While in many ways, the experience of the Jews in Europe during World War II may feel remote to our experience of contemporary Jewish life in America, the Holocaust is much closer to us than we might like to imagine. Even in a community like Kavana — where we have poured everything into forging “positive Jewish identity” (meaning, an engaged Jewish life rooted more in joy and meaning than in fear or guilt) — we continue to live in its shadow, demographically, sociologically, and even theologically. But, especially in a week when violence against Jews has come so close to our doorstep (in Poway, California), 75 years feels like no buffer at all.

Think about this for a minute: We are the last generation to have a direct historical link to this dark chapter. We will be the last ones in the scope of Jewish history to say that we knew survivors, or that we have heard first-hand accounts of the horrors of Nazi Europe. It is our sacred obligation to listen, to remember, and to assimilate the stories of our people into our being. It is our duty to preserve and reinvigorate Jewish life for our generation, in fulfillment of what Emil Fackenheim termed the 614th commandment, “not to grant Hitler a posthumous victory.” It is on us to give the words “Never Again” meaning, as we determine that we will not tolerate antisemitism as it continues to rear its ugly head, nor will we allow the hatred and violence that were poured on our people to be directed towards any other group.

I hope that many of you will join us tonight, to hear local author (and friend-of-Kavana) Karen Treiger share from the award-winning book she has written about her inlaws’ story of survival. If not, find another way to observe and remember this day. Light a yahrtzeit candle that will burn for the next 24 hours in your home. Read a Holocaust book or an article, or watch a film or on-line testimonials… even if the content is sad and you would rather look away. Initiate an important (if challenging) conversation with a child, or with a parent. Purchase tickets to see The Diary of Anne Frank at the Seattle Children’s Theater (a small Kavana group will be attending the 3:30pm performance on Sunday 5/12 and all are welcome), or make plans to visit the Holocaust Center for Humanity this month.  

May the memories of those who perished in the Shoah and the legacies of those who survived be a source of blessing and inspiration for us. May we find the courage to remember and observe Yom HaShoah, and to live boldly in the shadow of the Holocaust, as we continue to find our place in the scope of Jewish history.

Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum

Surprises in Everett (not about airplanes)

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The day before I left for my Passover travels, I spoke to a group of 100 students at Everett Community College.  I was invited by Dr. Charlie Fischer, who teaches a class on Holocaust memoir.

Last June Dr. Fischer went to Poland with the Seattle Holocaust Center for Humanity.  Joanna Millick was their expert tour guide and the group followed Sam’s story to Treblinka, through his 13 months there, the uprising, his escape and meeting Esther in the forest.  They met Eugenuisz and Alina Stys and saw the barn and the pit where they hid.

After my talk many students stayed and asked questions.  But one student held back; he seemed shy.  He waited until all the others were gone to approach.   He extended his hand to me and thanked me for my presentation.  He told me that his family came to America nine years ago from  Burma as refugees.  Like Sam and Esther, their family knew no English and had no money.   He had never heard of the Holocaust before and was deeply moved to hear Sam and Esther’s story and what had happened to the Jewish people.  I was equally moved to meet him and hear his family story.  What an honor to have been part of this learning experience.

Here is a beautiful article published the day after my talk by the Everett Clipper.

Visiting Author Delivers Passionate Account of Holocaust Survivors

 

 

Seder Thoughts

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I shared these ideas as the Dvar Torah at my shul, Minyan Ohr Chadash, in Seattle, last Shabbat. 

Happy Passover!  

 

I have a strong childhood memory of opening the door for Eliyahu at my family Seder.  After we did our job, I would scrutinized Eliyahu’s cup to see if there was any wine missing.  I always believed that a sip had been taken and that Eliyahu had visited.  As a young child, I thought of Eliyahu as the magical and kind gentleman of the many stories I had heard, who would come to the home of a poor family and give them money to prepare for Shabbat or Pesach.  He would, somehow, always come and save the day.

I was then, shocked to learn as a student at SHA, that the real Eliyahu was not such a nice guy.   He was a bitter zealot.  He challenged the prophets of Baal to a duel with G-d – kind of a korban slam. G-d wins hands down.  Then, G-d informs Eliyahu, who lacks empathy for the Jewish people, that it was time to pass the baton to Elisha.  Finally, Eliyahu is taken, alive, in a fiery chariot up to heaven. 

It is over time that Eliyahu’s image morphs.   In our Haftora, found in Malachi we read:  “Henie anochi sholeach lachem, et Eliyahu Hanavi, lifnei vo yom Hashem hagadol v’hanorah.”   “Behold, I send to you, Elijah the Prophet, he will come before the great and awesome day of Hashem.” Then Malachi continues -what will be Eliyahu’s job  – “V’heishiv lev avot al banim, the lev banim al avotam”  – to return the hearts of the parents to the children and the hearts of the children to the parents.”    Eliyahu is transformed into G-d’s messenger to turn the hearts of family members back to each other and to announce the coming of the messianic era of peace and tranquility.   

Then, as time passes, we see in the Talmud and through centuries of Jewish story-telling, that Eliyahu’s transformation is complete.  He appears at times of trouble or when something difficult must be done. This zealous prophet who lacked empathy – is now an empathetic savior, of individuals, families, and even the Jewish people. 

So, what is the Kos Shel Eliyahu that we have on our Seder Table – does it represent the kindly old man or the zealous prophet?  How are we to understand the mixture of Eliyahu the prophet, the glass of wine that sits upon our table, the opening of the door and the saying of Shfoch Chamatcha al Hagoyim – Pour out your Wrath on the nations? 

The four cups of wine that we drink at the Seder – reflect four expressions Geula – of redemptive feedom- found in Shmot – Exodus –

V’hotzeiti – I will extract you out from the suffering of Egypt.

V’hitzalti – I will deliver you from bondage

V’galti – I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and great judgements

V’lakachti – I will take you to myself as a nation

But there is a fifth lashon of geula – V’heiveiti – I will bring you to the land.   

Because there are 5 expressions of Geula, the Rabbis of the Talmud cannot agree – should we drink 4 or 5 cups of wine at the Seder?   It’s a Teku (Tishbi Yitaretz Hakushiot V’Sheelot – The Tishbi [Elihyahu] will answer the difficulties and questions). Four of the statements have come to pass, but the fifth has not.  The Rabbis were unable to resolved the question – so the practice is to pour the 5th cup, but not to drink it.   We call it Kos Shel Eliyahu because we must await the coming of Eliyahu to resolve all outstanding Halachik questions, including whether to drink 4 or 5 cups of wine at the Seder.

Then we open the door – why? 

One explanation is that the evening of the Exodus is referred to Liel Shimurim – a guarded night – during which G-d protected the Jewish people as the angel of death did not visit their homes.  Opening the door is a physical expression in our belief that G-d will protect us.    Eliyahu is invited in – he is our attorney in heaven – testifying that the Jewish people deserve continued protection and redemption – he testifies that he has personally attends all Brit Milah ceremonies – and can tell G-d that we have been a faithful nation.

So there we are – cup of wine poured, but not drunk, the door is open, exposing the family to the dangers outside and we invite Eliyahu, our attorney and now empathetic savior to join us and bring us good news. 

Then we recite some harsh verses pouring out wrath upon the nations – These verses were added to the Hagadah during the middle ages – when the Jews suffered great persecution – from the beginning of the crusades in 1096 and the first Blood Libel in Norwich in 1144.  It was added as a response to the persecution that spread all over Europe.    Rabbi Saks suggests that this prayer is not a call for humans to take revenge on our enemies, but rather a plea for diving justice and a hope that our lives will one day be lived in peace.

So how can we put this all together?

As we open the door for Eliyahu, it’s a magical moment with a powerful message.  We have the opportunity, as we sit at the ultimate family dinner, with our children —  with our parents, satiated and maybe a bit tipsy.  We can allow our hearts to warm and to return.  It’s a chance to appreciate each other in a new way.  If our hearts are in the right place, then the door can open – it can open to a meaningful relationship between parents and children.  It can be open for Eliyahu to enter our lives to help us take the necessary steps, as partners with G-d Almighty, to create a world in which peace can flourish – where we will see justice and empathy all around us.  

This is the perfect spot for Eliyahu to appear.  We the Jewish people, need him to bring his empathy and kindness to the world — so desperate for both.  But Eliyahu the Zealot is also with us as we still say Shfoch Chamatcha Al Hagoyim – Pour Out Your Wrath onto the Nations.  We recognize that we still live in a world with enemies who wish to do us harm.   The contradiction of Eliyahu’s character is not resolved – we will await his return to solve this one too.

GUESS WHAT – I WON THE BRONZE MEDAL – IPPY BOOK AWARD FOR WORLD HISTORY!

 

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IPPY – is the Independent Book Awards:

“Conducted annually, the Independent Publisher Book Awards honor the year’s best independently published titles from around the world. The awards are intended to bring increased recognition to the thousands of exemplary independent, university, and self-published books released each year.”

So I applied for the award in two categories – Memoir and History.

I learned this morning that I am a bronze medal winner in the category of World History!

This is super exciting because:

 My book won an award!
The award is in the World History category – and I tried really hard to put Sam and Esther’s story in historical context and this award is confirmation that I did a good job.
The two winners of gold and silver – are from Yale University Press and John’s Hopkin’s University Press.  So it’s kind of hilarious that right after these prestigious University Presses, comes Stare Lipki Press.  Ha.  So funny, right.  Who knew a tiny farming village in Poland would be the name of a Publishing Company one day!

What a wonderful way to go into the Chag of Pesach where we celebrate the birth of the Jewish people – we will keep the memory of those who suffered throughout our long history alive and be happy we are here to tell the tales.

I wish you all a Chag Kasher V’Sameach, a healthy and happy Passover.

PASSOVER SEDER – CREATING HISTORICAL MEMORY IN THE SHADOW OF THE SHOAH

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“In every generation, each person is obligated to see themselves as if they personally left Egypt.”

Passover Haggadah.

 

This sentence hits me hard.  When I reach down to a place to connect with this obligation, I inevitably hear Sam’s voice telling of his escape from Treblinka as his personal Exodus and his near drowning in the Bug River as his own crossing of the Red Sea.  I feel that through knowing him and retelling his story, I find a way to feel that I too left Egypt.

The Passover Seder is the most celebrated ritual among the Jews.  Most people, even if they are a bit more distant from Jewish observance, attend or host a Passover Seder.  Knowing how Sam connected his Holocaust experiences to the Exodus from Egypt, I believe that incorporating Holocaust stories into our Seders may be the best option for creating intergenerational historical memory related to the Holocaust, as we now live in the shadow of the Shoah.

Passover begins this coming Friday night.   As you prepare, take a few moments and think about creating some historical memory of our most recent tragedy at your Seder.   I would be honored if you find a passage from My Soul is Filled with Joy that resonates with you and read it aloud at your Seder.  For additional material, I include (below) some first-person testimonies I found on the Yad Vashem website.  This will give you much from which to choose.

If you choose to include a Holocaust reading at your Seder, please follow with a message of hope – perhaps something from your own family’s story that brings hope and happiness.  While we must recount and retell of the persecution in Egypt and Europe, we must include hope for the Jewish future.   At the Seder we begin with the negative and end with praise.

In every generation they rise up to destroy us – but we persevere.  The Jewish people is still here, telling the stories of our history, living with the memory of it all.  There is hope – the nine Goldberg grandchildren and one great grandchild will gather together for the Seder and Hitler will be defeated yet again.

I with you all a meaningful and delicious Seder.

 

From the Testimony of Stefanie S. Sucher about the Poisonous Effects of Anti-Jewish Propaganda

…Very close to our building was the main building of the Stuermer, the notorious Nazi newspaper. I often had to pass this building on my way to some private lessons. Since I couldn’t go to school, I had private lessons. Once, while I glanced at their windows, I could see the front page of the Stuermer, with a caricature of the Jews. I call it caricatures because they were. It was so bad and I saw them so often, that I later on almost felt that this must be what we are, that must be how we look, and it took me a long time to get rid of this image. Propaganda is a very terrible situation and very poisonous… Quite some time before Kristallnacht, all our friends disappeared, our Christian friends disappeared from us. We were really just a Jewish group now. I had no contact, hardly any contact with former girlfriends or other people I knew. I remained mostly in Jewish circles and also afterwards worked in the Jewish hospital, and then worked for a Jewish doctor. But nothing was permanent at this time because the people I worked for usually left the country eventually, those who could leave the country. Those who didn’t, sometimes moved away. It was very difficult to immigrate into Israel since the White Paper [British policy restricting immigration to Palestine in 1939] unless you…married somebody who had an Israeli permit, then you were able to get out… My sister did not go back to school. She stayed at home and didn’t want to go out because she had stones thrown at her. Ever since the Kristallnacht, which I call the overture to the extermination of the Jews,… things worsened from day to day and became almost unliveable. I became very friendly with one of the [Jewish studies] seminary students. We were under curfew, by the way. We could not go out at night. So in the evening he came over to my place or he had a little room where he studied and I went over to him and he started to make me Jewishly conscious. He taught me Hebrew…he taught me to be a Jew. He instilled in me a pride in being Jewish. He taught me various things and also the joy of Judaism…. He instilled in me a whole new thing, to really appreciate being a Jew, not just because a Nazi tells you that you are no good, that you are terrible. And this was the most important part, because this came at a time when I was mowed down. I had no feeling for myself. I actually ended up thinking that they were right, that I must look like … the caricatures in the Stuermer. I thought that was my image, thought we were no good, that we didn’t contribute to anything, that we were inferior.

Source: Yad Vashem Archive O.3 / 5132

 

From the Testimony of Yaacov Schwartzberger about Getting Caught While Stealing Bread, Vilna Ghetto 

…There was orphans there also. I went stealing bread with the orphans. I wanted to be one of the boys. I was a thin little boy, so they had me one time climb up, they had a rain drainpipe, and I climbed up on it up to the first floor. Also in that area where the “Jotkevergasse” was, they had a warehouse there for bread. I climbed up and my head went through those bars, between the bars I was so thin. I went through the bars and I started throwing down bread to them and then the Jewish police, the “Yiddische politzanten”, the Jewish police caught me and with the other two or three children, we were caught. The bigger children ran away, they just took off, but me they caught and they caught three or four more. And they took us to the “Kommissariat” they called it…[w]e were four boys – we were caught, we put in a corner on a little stage, wooden stage, interrogation stage, and the person in charge, the policeman in charge, the “Yiddishe Politzei”, he decided to give us, each one, ten whips with a rubber hose. He said each person should whip the other. I was the third one in the row, or the second one. I was the second one in the row. And the first one got whipped, he cried and he left. He got his ten. Q: So who whipped the first one? A: Not me. I don’t know. The other boy. I didn’t. Then my turn came. When my turn came another boy whipped me and the policeman said, “Harder!” “Starker!” “Harder!” And he whipped me and then he asked me, “Did it hurt?” I said, “No.” I didn’t cry. When I said no, he said, “Give him some more.” Then I started crying. Understand? I was stupid, you know, a little bit. I was proud. At that time afterwards I felt maybe I was stupid, not proud. It was my personality like this. I said it didn’t hurt. And then he said, “Give him some more.” Anyway, I got more and then I started crying and they let us go and it’s lucky they let us go because if they wouldn’t let us go, the Gestapo would come and take us and we would have been sent to the headquarters Gestapo and from there we would have been killed for sure. That’s what happened to people who got caught in the ghetto doing some kind of a crime, which happened to a lot of people in the ghetto. If the Germans found out that you did some kind of a thing like that, steal, they would find an excuse to execute, to kill, to murder.

Source: Yad Vashem Archives O.3-10906

 

From the Testimony of Olga Albogen about a Gas Chamber Being Blown Up at Auschwitz-Birkenau

We’re now back to Auschwitz. You were there a month, yes? A: A month. Q: And what happened there during this month? A: Well, actually, the food was horrible. Bitter, grass, whatever, and there was some medication in the (?) because all the girls, everybody, stopped menstruating. Q: So there was bitter something in it. A: But I said to my sister, “We must eat it, otherwise how are we going to survive?” I said, “My parents are going to go home and we shouldn’t?” So every day selections, Mengele selected us. They took us…there was one instant….They said we’re going to take a shower, to the baths. And the bath was near the gas chamber. And many times they took groups and they never came back. We figured they took them to work, whatever. We didn’t, we didn’t think that it’s the end of them. So once our group, we had to completely undress, leave, that one dress we had on, leave it in a pile and standing outside, naked, waiting to get into the showers. Standing hours, hours. Evening came, dark night. We’re still standing there and then they said there’s an empty barrack, big, tremendous building with nothing in it, just the walls, and they herded us into it, naked, the way we were, for the night. It was August and the nights were so cold – Auschwitz was mountainous around – and the nights were so cold and we were standing there naked all night and the next day. Nothing, nothing happens, no shower. But the showers actually were with gas, it was with gas and they gave gas – that’s how they killed the people before they got into the gas chamber. But they didn’t do anything. We were standing there at least twenty-four hours or more. Q: You thought you are going to be gassed? A: To take a shower, they said, and we believed it, but everybody said that, I mean the Polish people who were working around there, they said that that’s the gas chamber and whatever. And then after twenty-four hours they let us out, without food, without a drop of water or anything, and then they started to talk about, there were rumours that we were waiting near the gas chamber and the gas chamber broke down. And that’s why they sent us back to the barracks. We were waiting, they couldn’t fix it, it broke down. I didn’t believe it. Q: This you will never know actually. A: Wait a minute. What happened, last year it was Yom HaShoah and the woman was on the television talking, on the radio – radio or television I don’t even know because I don’t remember her face. She said she was working, she was in Auschwitz and she was working outside of the camps, in the city of Auschwitz in an ammunition factory. And once she smuggled in ammunition and she gave it to the guys who were working in the gas chamber and they blewup the gas chamber and she said it was the middle of August. So that’s…I just couldn’t believe it that it was really true. Q: But you know that many times there were rumours that it was the gas that time. A: Yes, rumours – we let it go. But last year, Yom HaShoah, when this woman was talking that she smuggled in ammunition and gave it to the guys who were working there and they blew it up and the gas chamber wasn’t working for days until they fixed it, until then, till last year I didn’t believe it. Q: And now you believe. A: Well, there is no two ways about it. Q: But still, I mean if, they would not send there if it did not work at all, would they? A: No, but it blew up while we were waiting outside. Q: And you did not hear that it was blowing up? A: We heard, but there was always noise and smoke and….we just…You know, till the last minute we never believed, but after the liberation even, I didn’t want to believe that the gas chamber took so many people.

Source: Yad Vashem Archives O.3-10335

 

From the Testimony of Shmuel Krakowski about the Liberation from Theresienstadt

I woke up that day, just as on the day before, and all the previous days – very, very hungry. We lay on the bare floor, prisoners closed in a prison within a larger prison. We had arrived here a fortnight earlier with the death march from Rehmsdorf, a subcamp of Buchenwald. We were more than 4,000 Jewish concentration camp prisoners when they took us out of Rehmsdorf in the early days of April. Only 500 of us reached the Czech town of Terezin, which had been transformed by the Nazis into a Jewish ghetto, known by the German name Theresienstadt. All the others were killed or died on the way. Among those who perished were some of my closest friends from our underground youth organization in the Lodz ghetto: Rysiek Podlaski, Abramek Kociolek and Sruled Krajkowski. They locked us into the huge building called Hamburger Kaserne. Those outside the gate, the resident prisoners of Theresienstadt, were more lucky. They at least had some freedom to move through the few streets of the ghetto. We knew the Third Reich had collapsed, and that our liberation was a matter of days or even hours. Unfortunately, for people exhausted after the suffering of the death march and years of starvation, those hours of waiting for the liberators to come seemed very long. Each hour stretched to eternity. Many of us were in agony, as was one of my best friends Lutek Nachtstern. There was no longer any doubt that for these people the liberation would come too late. For the rest of us it was a tragic race; which would happen first – the liberation or death from starvation? I don’t remember who was the first that morning to look out of the window. I well remember his cry of joy: “Boys, the Russians are here”. Thus, we were liberated.

With many others, I decided to run out immediately and welcome the liberators. Many of us were not able to do so. They were too weak to move, but had no choice but to lie and wait for the liberators to come and bring them food, and to arrange medical treatment.

The gate of the Hamburger Kaserne was still closed. A Czech policeman stood outside and tried to persuade us to remain within, because, as he said, we were an epidemic danger for those outside. It sounded like nonsense to remain imprisoned after the liberation had finally come. We refused to obey and stormed the gate. The Czech policeman gave up and disappeared. We soon found ourselves on the road outside the ghetto. There we saw several Red Army tanks, a military supply truck and a few Russian soldiers on bicycles escorting a huge column of German prisoners of war. Germany was defeated and we saw it now with our own eyes. This was the day we had been waiting for. We were very hungry, so the first thing we did was to ask the Russians to give us something to eat. The soldiers were extremely friendly to us but didn’t have much to offer. The only thing they had in their supply truck was sugar, a lot of sugar, and salted pork. I preferred to satisfy my hunger with sugar. I remembered how a few days earlier a doctor in the Hamburger Kaserne, who was also a prisoner, warned us to be very careful of what we ate when the day of liberation came, because we had suffered prolonged starvation. I decided that the pork would be too fat for my starved stomach. I ate the sugar. I remembered that in normal times sugar was used only for tea and cakes. Now I ate spoonfuls of sugar. This strengthened me, and maybe even save my life. It was a wonderful feeling which I hadn’t experienced for almost five years. I could now eat as much as I liked. I knew I would never be hungry again. We were told that German soldiers were in hiding in the vicinity. They tried to remain hidden until nightfall and then escaped under the cover of darkness. We were asked to help the Russians comb the area and find the Germans. This we were more than happy to do. We were supposed to move in a scattered line into a wooded area with which we were not familiar. We had no idea whether it was a large forest or just a few acres of trees. I soon lost sight of my friends on the left and right and felt quite lonely in these unfamiliar surroundings. Suddenly, from behind the trees a tall, fat German soldier appeared. I was terribly frightened. I had no arms. What if he decides to shoot me? Shall I die a few hours after being liberated? Fortunately, the German raised his hands and I saw that he was more frightened than I was. His whole body trembled, and he screamed like a madman: “Hitler kaput. Ich was kein Nazi! Hitler kaput. Ich war kein Nazi“ [Hitler is finished. I am not a Nazi]. Encouraged by his behavior, I took him to the road. Some of my fellow exprisoners appeared with “their” Germans. All of them tried to convince us very loudly and very nervously that they had never been Nazis. They had always hated Hitler. “Look, none of them was a Nazi. How, then, was it that the Nazi regime succeeded in holding out to this very day?”, said one of my friends. Those captured Nazi soldiers seemed to be more frightened of us than of the Russians. I thought I knew the reason. The Nazis knew that those who survived would tell the world the story of their barbarity. By afternoon I felt very tire and decided to go back to Theresienstadt, to the Hamburger Kaserne. I had no other place to go, and I also wanted to see how my friends who had remained there were feeling. As I walked along the road two uniformed men on bicycles came up to me. At first I didn’t recognize them. They were not wearing those German uniforms which unhappily we had gotten so familiar with during the past sad six years of war. Neither were they the uniforms of the Red Army soldiers of whom we now saw so many around us. It took me a few minutes to remember. These were the uniforms of the Polish Army which I hadn’t seen since that tragic September in 1939.  “Polish Army?” I asked the men. “Yes” was the answer. The two men introduced themselves. They were Jews, officers of the Polish Armored Corps, which had been fighting until the day before some 30 kilometers distant from this place. They had been told that there was a large concentration camp of Jewish prisoners in the vicinity and they were eager to see their liberated brothers. I told them I was one of them and volunteered to be their guide. We reached Theresienstadt and entered the first barrack. Here were women, mostly from Poland and Hungary, who, like myself, had come with the death marches from other concentration camps. They received the officers with indescribable joy. “Our brothers! Jewish officers! At last, at last, you are with us!” They shook hands, kissed each other and cried with joy. The officers asked many questions. They were eager to know where the women came from and all the details of their suffering in the ghettos and camps. One after the other, the women told their story of their unbelievable experiences under the Nazis. The stories were interrupted with expressions of great happiness: to be able to sit here, secure, with Jewish officers, to tell them their stories, knowing that Nazi Germany had come to an end and would never rise again. Suddenly, one of the women asked the officers, to tell their story in turn, the story of soldiers at war. And then almost immediately, the mood of all of us changed. The joyful atmosphere disappeared, giving way to grief and sorrow. The lieutenant told his story. He was from Vilna. He had been mobilized into the Red Army. He had fought in many battles and was wounded at Stalingrad. After recovering he was transferred to the newly-created Polish Army. Times changed for the better. They defeated the Germans and continually moved westward. To their great sorrow, in all the liberated places they found no Jews. The Germans had murdered an entire nation – our nation. After entering Poland, the lieutenant asked for a few days leave to visit his native Vilna. “There I found only my stones, the familiar buildings and streets with none of the people who used to live there before”, the officer told us. In liberated Lublin the only Jews were the soldiers in the Red and Polish armies, as well as some Jewish partisans who came out of the forest. On the long march through Poland, in the hundreds of towns and villages through which they passed, there were no more Jews. Everywhere there were only extermination sites and mass graves. Theresienstadt was the first place they had met so many Jews, thousands of Jews who had survived the Nazi rule. Thus, we learned that our fate was much worse than we had expected. Although we had seen a lot and experienced the worst, we still had hoped, still had dreamed. All those days we had struggled to survive, hour after hour, day after day, there had been no time to grasp the enormity of our tragedy. Now everything became clear. No longer were our families waiting for us; no homes to go back to. For us, the victory had come too late, much too late.

Source: The Anguish of Liberation- Testimonies from 1945, edited by Y, kleiman and N. Springer- Aharoni (Yad Vashem, Jerusalem, 1945), pp 13- 16

 

Nadejda Vasileva on the Inhuman Conditions in the Trains Transporting Thracian Jews

Nadejda Vasileva witnessed the Thracian Jews being transported under inhuman conditions from Thrace to Germany, through the port and Southern Station of Lom (Bulgaria), during March 1943. Though not Jewish herself, she sympathized with the Jews, and tried helping them on their terrible journey to the death-camps.

 

I started the distribution with the help of two or three gypsies, and filled the utensils that were handed to me through holes, or through a narrow window. But the smell was nauseating and the dirt awful. I did not have enough water to wash the dirty utensils. The gypsies were helping me and together with Mitko – today, an important Communist – they were stealing and filling their pockets. I saw them together with Mitko take 50 to 100 leva for a glass of water, a lemon or a boiled egg. Their pockets were full of banknotes. A railway worker came with a hose and let the water run so that the people could wash the utensils. I was wading in human excrement. The railway worker brought the hose when he saw, with tears in his eyes, that people were handing the same utensils in which they had left their excrement. “What can I do?” I asked myself. I heard a woman shout: “Please, Madam, give greetings to the local Rabbi from his daughter from Gumurdjina, and tell him that I don’t know where I am going”. Shouts were coming from another carriage – they did not have water or air. “Please. An old man died here three days ago. It is stinking and last night, a woman gave birth to a child, and we haven’t got any clothes to wrap it in!”

Source: Nadejda S. Vasileva, Recollections of the Catastrophe of the Thracian Jews, Yad Vashem Studies, Vol. 3, Jerusalem, 1959, pp. 298299

 

From the Testimony of Bernard Mayer on the Liquidation of the Ghetto, Poland, 1943

…By January, we had felt that this was probably the end and the symptoms were very simple. They started to come into the ghetto to remove our personal belongings and they would come in from house to house with trucks and they had some Jews helping them, the Jewish police. They would go around and they would remove everything we had. As a matter of fact, once they came to my mother’s house and she put everything in her bed and covered it. She thought that she would save it. And then she took her best coat and she put it on. When they came in and they saw her in the coat standing because she figured this way they will pick away the coat, so they ripped out the lining of the coat because they thought she hides something there, gold or whatever it is, and they left the coat on her, but all the lining was ripped out. Everything that was in the bed, they took everything away. They left only the most essential things like the bed and some pots and some dishes. The rest they would take everything out of the ghetto. And then my mother, on day, I knew…I tried to find a place with some gentiles and I went to a place. We all three sent to a place where the Germans had there their horses. They told us that in January the ghetto is going to be liquidated. The rumours started to go on that the ghetto is going to be liquidated.

Source: Yad Vashem Archives O.3-7605

 

From the Testimony of Alex Feuer about the Arrival and First Selection at Auschwitz

At the ripe old age of fifteen I arrived in Auschwitz, the infamous human extermination camp. We were pushed like cattle into freight train cars. After a five-day, unbelievable hard journey we arrived in Auschwitz. As we were being removed from the train our first view was SS men with guns and guard dogs. The SS guards told us to leave the little belongings we had on the ground and line up. Little did we know that at the time that we were about to be selected for life or for death. As I stood in line a stranger tapped me on the shoulders from behind and told me in Yiddish: “Little boy, stand on your feet. Stand on your toes when you come up to the German SS. Make yourself taller.” I stretched and strained, somehow knowing that my life depended upon the stranger’s advice. I was selected to work in a road gang while my parents and my younger brother were taken to the gas chambers. After they selected me for work we were taken near the showers. There we relinquished all our clothing and what little personal belongings we carried with us. We were all completely disrobed and had our hair shorn off. As I looked about I could see mountains and mountains of personal belongings such as eyeglasses, shoes, clothing of every description, and piles and piles of human hair. Now we were being led to the showers. Apprehension and fear was present among all since we had heard rumours that the showers were gas chambers. We were reluctant to enter and had to be pushed and shoved with force into the showers. To our amazement they were real showers. It was a miracle that our lives had been spared and we had survived this ordeal. We were then disinfected with some kind of chemicals and issued one set of striped work clothes. As we were being led away to the living quarters we could see smoke and flames rising out of the chimneys. The talk among us was disbelief of the horrors that were occurring. Words cannot describe or furnish anyone with any accurate picture of what went on there.

Source: Yad Vashem Archives O.3-8521

 

From the Testimony of Dora Love on the Conditions at Stutthof Concentration Camp

…then you walked out and they said: “Anziehen.” [get dressed] These were the striped horror clothes. If anybody had put dress with nails on the inside on you, that’s what it would have felt like. They scratched you to pieces. You didn’t have fat on you, at least I didn’t. It scratched and made my skin bleed. That’s what you put on. Over there is a row with what they called shoes. They were wooden soles with flat boots. Nobody cared what size you needed. You put those on and you went. All I kept looking for was where are the others – my sister and mother. That was my total worry. We walked out and obviously the shoes that I had were such that it took a lot of attention after the war, orthopedic gadgets and help to stretch the toes because the shoes had been too small.  We were first in a barrack together. Most of the barracks were a wooden stable. You’ve seen that, three people to a bunk. In the center there were four bunks. The horse blanket, the gray blankets that we called horseblankets were so rough. In any case, you got one to a bunk. You do me a favor and tell me how you share that, three people to a bunk. Nobody knew how to share it. The number of inmates decreased. People died like flies. We were again faced with this lack of water, lack of lavatories. There were latrines right over in the fields. They were just holes in the ground. You couldn’t see in the dark. You were afraid to fall into them. It was slippery especially when the winter came and it all froze over. You got a mug of coffee. I always say this black water that was called coffee and after that you saved some to wash yourself. You have very good intentions at first. You really think you are going to rinse your mouth. Dental hygiene is very important. It wasn’t then because you actually need the fluid in your body. So cleanliness goes to hell. Food you haven’t got that would sustain you. After the first couple of days, you were being lined up to go to work or by that time, some looked worse again and so the number got smaller. It was again right, left, right, left… Interviewer: You knew already about gas at that time?

Dora Love: At Stutthof? Interviewer: Yes. Dora Love: Stutthof was a total extermination camp.

Source: Yad Vashem Archives 0.3-7504

 

From the Testimony of Max Dreimer about Forced Labor at Sachousen Concentration Camp

… Then we were divided. I was lucky, more or less. I was put into a job – it’s called “klinckerwerke”, which we marched out about an hour going and an hour coming. “Klinckerwerke” means, this is where they manufactured bricks. Bricks was their main item of manufacturing. Many other things, smaller stuff, carpentry and things like that. At least I was out from punishment for the daytime from the camp, but on the job itself we had some miserable, what they called “kapos”, which were inmates and either they wanted to get ahead or be released or they initiative..(?) because they had been in the camps for ten, twenty years or jails. They just let it out to others or they just were plain Jews-hater. So anyhow, you were glad to be out of the camp for a full day. And in 1941, I had an accident. I fell off a little mountain and this is a mountain where about thirty kilometers away there was a mine where they collected the clay out of the mines and bring it back into the factory and by trains, and then were put into oven and baked and made bricks out of it. And when it’s rain, came in and brought about twenty or thirty boxcars of this clay and we shovelled it onto a mountain. I fell down the mountain, I broke my leg and I don’t know why I survived that six weeks in the hospital with a broken leg because their policy was, they shouldn’t feed anybody more than a week if he’s not able to produce some kind of a labour. So I survived this accident and in 1942, one morning we were called out, the order came we do not go out to work today, we stay inside. Maybe an hour or two later we were called out of the barracks and we were told that we’re being brought to Poland. Not mentioned the word of Auschwitz. Just to Poland and to working camps. And believe it or not, some of our guys started making a line (?) and we thought the towers which were on each corner, the machine guns are going to start any minute because there was nobody on that place, so-called “appellplatz”, only we. And I think the “lagerfhrer” must have had a soft day this day and he told us, “You know, if I wanted to, I just call up there and there goes the gun, but you better start behaving, otherwise I will do that.” We tried to find out where we’re going to go and there was no answer. They left about…at this time we were maybe, three barracks, maybe a thousand or so. They picked out twenty-some guys which were watchmakers, tool and die makers – they kept them behind. They did not go along with us. Later, after the liberation, I found out that they were making phony American money and foreign moneys – has a name for it, I forgot. So anyhow, we marched out of this camp to a train station and we got pushed into animal boxcars. Still there was no way of knowing where we are going to go, and after everybody was in, we just kept going, the train pulled on, heavily with guards on us. And after several days – there was no bathroom facilities at all – they opened the doors. We could peek out just like an animal. There was a slot you could see through maybe. You did have some little opening way up on the top there with bars, but there was no way of reaching to look at it. We came to Auschwitz.

Source: Yad Vashem Archives 0.3- 9557