Introduction
Twenty-nine years have passed since the destruction
in Europe, the most bloody period of all time, in which a third of the Jewish people was
murdered, six million souls. Six million worlds were destroyed during World War II when
Hitler, may his name be blotted out, set out to destroy, God forbid, all the Jews to the
last remnant of the people Israel. Just as happened with all the enemies of the Jews, he
also had a despicable ending. However, before he died he managed to destroy the most
beautiful Jewish community in Europe, to blot out forever thousands of old Jewish
settlements which, at one time, played an important role in Jewish life, and to wipe out
six million Jewish lives, amongst them over a million Jewish children.
We, the ones who escaped the gas chambers and
crematoriums, the ones who were not murdered or incinerated, the remaining few from that
huge community, when we were freed and met the Jews in free countries, experienced a
certain disappointment and bitterness. There, in the concentration camps, we convinced
ourselves that Jews in free lands, our sisters and brothers, had no peace the whole time,
but rather stormed the entire world, organized street demonstrations and protest meetings;
that they sent their children to fight the Nazis as volunteers; that they didn't celebrate
any bar-mitzvahs or festivities. In our fantasy we saw all these manifestations and that
gave us courage and strength to endure all the agonies. But, when we were freed, and saw
the reality, we saw how naive we were--that there was only some political attempt, with
intervention in Houses of Parliament where it was promised that something would be done,
but nothing was actually done. Jews carried on with their festivities, celebrated
anniversaries and even arranged dances. Quietly, some would, from time to time, utter a
sigh. More sentimental men and women would let a tear drop and with that the matter ended.
Other than in Israel, where they organized rescue operations and formed the Jewish
Brigade, hardly anything was done in the diaspora to save the unfortunate ones in the
concentration camps.
***
I did no writing in the concentration camps because
I did not have the means to do so, but I did keep a diary in the ghetto, which I carried
with me all the way to Auschwitz. There they took away from us all our baggage and all our
documents and threw them on a large heap. We never got our things back. But, in my mind
scenes were etched, pictures, episodes, events, meetings and experiences which left a deep
mark in my heart and soul.
When I became a free man I felt compelled to write
a book to immortalize all the tragic history; to recall names, so that their memory would
be kept alive. I started to make notes, to write my memoirs and to gather material. But
afterwards, seeing how people, Jews, relate to the material of the destruction, that many
of them regret that their peace of mind is being disturbed, and that the enjoyment of
their meals is being disturbed by the tragic accountings, I lost my desire to write and
disclose my memoirs. I felt that it was an offence to my feelings, a profanation of the
memory of the martyrs, such a cold and indifferent regard of their suffering and their
martyred deaths.
On the other hand, though, I questioned why I
wasn't writing and publishing my memoirs. This is historical material which I must not
keep to myself. This is a monument for my friends who perished, whose memory I must
immortalize, and last of all -- that my children and grandchildren must know what their
father and grandfather endured, what the tattooed number on my left arm signifies. When my
children were young and asked me what the number signifies, I told them that it was a
telephone number which I needed to remember and I never did forget it...but now, when they
are already grown, they must be told the truth. Perhaps they will learn something from
this.
I also decided to fulfil the wishes of my many
friends and dear ones who gave me no rest, but constantly urged me to write and publish my
memoirs. And now, they will see the light of day. Though it is late, and the memories are
old, it is never too late to tell the truth. Because all the horrors have paled a bit and
people have started to forget what happened in our time, I will revive the memories and
recall all the tragic events and disturb, somewhat, their peace, with my
"nightmares".
K. Charmatz
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