Concordia University MIGS

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WE GET BEATEN

An SS man by the name Hirsh, however, saw through the window how we women were carrying parcels back, so he went out in a rage, stopped the auto, told us to undress, and started to search us. I snuck the money out, also the towel and the socks, and when I was searched and nothing was found on me, the murderer started to ask whose things the thrown out ones are, and he started to beat us without pity, with a rubber cudgel. He paid no attention to where he was hitting.

There was an 8-year-old girl with us who had come to visit her father - so I wanted to protect her so that she wouldn't get hit. The murderer probably noticed this and he didn't like it, so he beat me so hard that I felt that I would faint. My luck was that a girl from Dvinsk, Ella Gutterman, pulled me away so that the murderer wouldn't see how weak I was.

After the beating we were taken to the factory, and once there we had to wait a few hours in the yard before we were let in to work.

It so happened that in that week I was working the day shift, that is - from 2 until 10 in the evening. Beaten as I was, I went to work, but I couldn't work. The boss, a Lat, asked me what happened, so I told him the whole story and added that that's not all. Probably the notes will be found in the bread and that our troubles won't be over. He calmed me down and said secretly that it could be that things will soon change completely. The Germans are being defeated on all sides and the Russians are already in Dvinsk.

WE ARE SUMMONED TO THE COMMANDANT OF KAISERWALD

In a few days five women were summoned to the camp-commandant, and I was one of them. We certainly were very frightened, and I said farewell to all my friends, because I knew that Zaver, the commandant, doesn't let anyone out alive if he finds anyone has committed a sin. With the thought that I'm going to the hang-noose, I got on the auto that took me to Kaiserwald.

We went into the commandant as though our fate had been sealed, though, in truth, we didn't know why we were summoned. Amongst us there were those who weren't in the camp with us that unfortunate day.

We were registered and asked if we have any relatives in the Kasernirung 'Lenta.' There, in that Kasernirung, we knew that there were around 300 Jews and they are much better off than us. They didn't wear striped clothes. Their coats weren't taken away from them, and in general, the regime there was an easier one. I was very surprised that they are calling us there. I had two cousins there: Rivetchke and Ola Hellerman and a relative, Chana Halpern. Possibly they are worried about me. Anyhow I was happy to be rid of the factory, because putting potatoes in the machines to roast was very risky. It had become a daily thing. If I got caught I could say farewell to life.

We stayed overnight, but in the morning we were informed that Dolman, the director, of the A.E.G. factory, a German civilian, a sadist, phoned to say that we are good workers and that he can't do without us, so they should send us back.

I unwittingly said to the commandant: 'Yudn - we are good workers?'. . .

Still, we were taken back. The four women were angry with me because they argued that it is only because of me that we are being brought back.

When we returned we discovered that the women in our section made a scandal and told the boss where we had been taken, and since the boss knew about our beating, he went to the director, complaining loudly about his best workers having been taken away. That's why the director called us back.

In the barracks they were very happy to see me back. They were sure that I had been taken to be hanged. So it was that we went back to work, and once more put potatoes in the machines.

 

'KOPF HOCH' (HEAD HIGH)

Once an order came to select three or four hundred women for a factory somewhere in Germany, so the Latvian bosses made a list of those women whom they didn't need, and the murderers from Kaiserwald came to get the women. Amongst them was the murderer Hirsh.

The women were inspected to see if they had any socks, rings, and such and they were brutalized enough while this was being done. When they were already in the yard to be taken away, Hirsh turned back to the yard and started to act like a mad dog, looking for victims. We hid in the barracks so that he wouldn't see us. I happened to be in the third barrack. It was there that Hirsh came in with a golden revolver and howled: 'Remain standing! I'm shooting!' We had no idea to whom he was shouting, but soon I saw near me a 16-17 year old girl from Vilnius, Ducia, from the fourth barrack, white as chalk, and Hirsh was standing over her like a madman. Her sin was probably that she had somewhat shortened her striped dress.

The murderer told her to undress completely naked, and when she stood before him as naked as Eve, and out of shame couldn't look him straight in the eyes, he kept hitting her with his revolver under the chin: 'Head high! Head high!' She didn't even let out a sigh, didn't dare to.

He hit her so long with the revolver in the chin, until blood started to run from all her teeth. It was only then that the madman's savagery stopped. He stretched out a clean, manicured finger and spread the girls blood all over her body. That was his signature. Then he took a jacket down from the wall, calmly wiped his hands and took it with him, probably to wipe.

The jacket was mine with the number 9295. I was very frightened, lest I have any troubles because of this. It passed alright, however.

TWO HUNDRED WOMEN ARE SENT TO THEIR DEATH

Once we were out in the yard one day after work and looked out through the cracks in the fence to the people who were free, who don't know about our enslavement, nor of our suffering. The same sun was clouded over on our side while on the side of the Lats it warmed and shone, just as it is written in the ghetto song: For some the squares and boulevards, for us such a quarter. . .

Towards evening, as we were looking out through the cracks, and were sunk in our thoughts, we suddenly saw our supervisor running with a book in his hand to the director. Then - back and then again to the director. Since we were always ready for troubles, we understood that something is not so smooth now.

There was still time to go to work, however I asked Frau Dr. Wofsy, the colleague-leader, to take me along, and so I went into the factory an hour earlier when the 2-10 shift was still working.

I went over to the shift leader, Dora Stein, that something is probably taking place here. We immediately went to the leader of our section, a lower ranking officer, who just happened to be walking around there at the time.

'What's going on here?' we asked and we immediately realized that we are risking our lives, because how dare we ask what they're preparing to do with us. But we were very resigned and at such moments we didn't fear any misfortune that can happen to us personally.

The low-ranking officer listened to us and promised to phone to the director. In a little while he told us that the factory must provide 200 women tomorrow to go to work elsewhere. We understood that the other place was one from which nobody returns, and it was clear to us immediately why, for the last few days, women were told not to come to work any more. So we gave him the list of these women, as far as we could remember their names, and asked him for mercy, to try and save as many of them as he possibly could.

I didn't have any relatives or anyone I knew amongst those who had been told not to come to work, rejected ones, but every Jewish soul was dear to me, as many as we could recall by name, later when my shift worked, I baked some potatoes and dozed off a bit, so nobody knew that tomorrow something frightful was going to take place.

The low-ranking officer told us that he would do everything he could, and save not only those on our list, but as many he will be able to, just to please us.

Frau Stein went home with her colleague and I remained in the factory with the women and with another colleague-leader, Greta Levin, a half-Jew from Germany. We could already imagine what was going to take place here tomorrow. When anyone asked me why I'm so dejected, I avoided giving a clear answer, but merely said that intuitively I feel something will happen tomorrow. But the Vilnius women who were always helpful, laughed at me: 'Frau Zaltzman is pessimistic again,' and they went on baking their potatoes.

Night went on, though I hoped it would never end. . . Suddenly there was an alarm. We were chased out into the yard. I prayed to God for a miracle, that he should destroy us, not to leave a sign of us, anything rather than that the murderers should be able to rule over us. An hour later we were chased back into the factory and that's how the night passed, in fear and pain. But at six in the morning, at daylight, we saw the calamity. Nobody came to take over our shift.

The women immediately wanted me to tell them what I know. I told them that yesterday I had seen the supervisor run to the director with the list in hand, back and forth and I didn't like what I saw.

Now they already understood where my black mood came from. Down in the yard something was going on now. And they would probably come to take us soon as well. How are we any better than the others? We stood mutely and waited.

After half an hour we suddenly heard our women coming. We heard the familiar sound of the wooden shoes. Our joy was indescribable. Our first thought was: are our close ones and acquaintances also coming, and instinctively each one started to look for their relatives.

There's Frau Shik (maiden name Markowitz) and her daughter Tamara, whom Frau Rosenberg saved. Here's Frau Edelberg and her daughter, as well as the others for whom we had put in a good word to the lower-ranking officer. From the distance I heard voices: 'Pesia, we're alive!' But as they got closer they said to me that what happened in the yard, they can't tell me. . .

Now the low-ranking officer himself came over to me, pale, and he says to me that he did whatever he could, and that we can all go home now. He'll accompany us.

We lined up in rows and started to go out. Suddenly I heard a shout: 'Frau Zaltzman! Save Tzipeh!' I got so bewildered that for a moment I didn't know who Tzipeh is. I also forgot that I mustn't walk on the sidewalk where the low-ranking officer walks, and I started to run after him and plead, with tears in my eyes, to save the one called Tzipeh. When we went out in the yard I showed him which one was Tzipeh: 'There she is, standing and crying.'

When one, a murderess saw that I was talking to the low-ranking officer, she thought that there's something personal going on between us and she let me understand, without words, that she'll soon send me off also. But the low-ranking office told her to leave me alone, but he saw that she wouldn't free Tzipeh. So what did he do? He pretended that he needs another five or six women for work.

He went to the German woman and asked her: 'Can I take more woman to work?' and when she allowed him to take, he went over and took a few women, including Tzipeh, who was standing terrified and trembling, and he took them to me.

They started to register us. When my turn came, I let them record Tzipeh Yeruchimovich's from Dvinsk name before mine, and then we were chased into the barracks.

And the 200 women, woe to us - They were transported right into the jaws of death. To this day I see before my eyes their eyes, too grief stricken to even cry, and my heart breaks from pain.

In the barracks the women fell upon me in tears and thanked me for saving them. But I told them, and Tzipeh also, that they only remain alive for the time being - and that is only by chance, and not thanks to me. Why do I have thanks coming to me? All I want is to live as a free human being and tell it all.

At work everyone thanked me for Stein and I saving the lives of their dear ones, but I had in mind the 200 victims and there was no thought of thanks in my mind.

OUR HAIR IS CUT

On July 6, 1944, in the morning, we weren't allowed to go to work, because an order had been issued that all the women must have their hair cut. We were taken in shifts for haircuts. We were given the kind of haircuts that soldiers get in the army, and with heads like that, even without kerchiefs, we were sent to work. The Lats stood on the sidewalk, looked at us and laughed. We looked like the patients in a mental hospital, but we didn't let the Lats see a tear in our eyes. We didn't even look at them.

What took place in the barrack amongst ourselves, however, that's something else. . . But even here we didn't despair. The young girls, (Tzireleh Lipovska, Fira Paperna, Vopnik, Roza Paperna and others) took thin telephone wire of various colours, made themselves curls on their heads, and showed the Lats that it doesn't bother them at all. . . until the boss said to put an end to it, he can't look at it. Besides, he can't understand how we can joke about our troubles.

When one looked at the shaved heads, the first impression was: boys. From the various women's heads of hair there became one monotonous mass of boyish heads. We didn't recognize each other, not even our relatives - all because we had no hair. Sometimes I would go over to an acquaintance, pat her on the head and say: 'Little fellow, how are you?'. . .

Later we found out that the hair is used for military purposes.

Here in the barracks we slept on the tables and on the bare floor, because in the bunks one literally bathed in bed bugs.

THE HAPPY FAMILY

At that time we got blankets with which to cover up. Each one - one blanket. The three Munitz sisters and the lonely Dora Rain whom they had in 1942 taken as a sister, got four blankets, according to the reckoning. But one of them, Frieda, made slippers out of them, that she smuggled into the factory and sold them for bread, until they were all left with one blanket. That one blanket Ôwarmed' all four of them, because they all slept together, huddled together, all on the same side. And when we sometimes heard a command from their corner: 'Turn around!' we knew what was going on, that probably one of them wanted to turn over on the other side.

REGARDS FROM STRAUSENHAUF

The Russians were advancing closer and closer to Riga. Dvinsk had long ago fallen into their hands. Nearly every night there were attacks on Riga. We knew very well that when the Germans give up a city, no Jew is left alive there, and we started to fear lest the same be done to us. We found out that that day when the Russians captured Mitau, 40 kilometers from Riga, the murderers slaughtered all the Jews of Straussenhauf. My brother Aaron, by the way, was there also. But me, my acquaintances wanted to convince that there was a 'sorting' there first, and that my brother, a watchmaker, wasn't harmed. . . The sick were gassed and burned and in each place sorting is now going on: those who are still suited for work - separate, and those for whom there is no longer any use - they will die. . .

We went around like buried souls, because as long as there was still a need for cables and batteries that we produce for the front, they keep us; but if there will no longer be a front, what do they need us for? Some women planned to run away, but to where? What Lat will hide a Jew? They wanted every last one of us killed as soon as possible so that no witnesses would remain to tell of the 'good deeds' that they did with us Jews.

The lower-rank officer assured us that we have nothing to worry about. It may be that we will soon be sent to Germany to work, because the war hasn't ended yet. From his talk we didn't feel any better, because to Germany they would only take the healthy ones, and there were very few of that kind remaining amongst us.

Meanwhile the Russians captured Estonia. The Estonian population started to run like poisoned rats. Those who were afraid that they would be asked for a reckoning, the Volkdeutsch (German nationalists) those who voted for Hitler all ran with their bags and children in their arms, exactly the way we Jews ran at the start of the war. Now they have a taste of what we went through - we thought, as we looked at the 'innocent lambs' running in the same fear. Looking through the cracks in the fence we were happy that we have lived to see this, though our own life hung by a hair.

The A.E.G. factory was on the very railway track that leads to Riga. The mood in the factory was now very strained. Those who feared the Bolsheviks ran towards Germany. There were whispers that soon we would be liberated, the Russians are coming. But we were afraid of what might yet happen to us at that last minute.

The bombings came more often but they didn't harm us. We feared the Germans more. When there was an alarm we weren't allowed to remain in the factory. Instead, we were chased out into the yard like dogs, or we were let to go alone to our barracks, without anyone accompanying us. The Latvian police didn't want to accompany us and risk their lives, so we went by ourselves in the middle of the road, not rushing, because if not today - then tomorrow. . . Strange feelings overtook us as we stood in the dark streets, without guards, yet with death facing us. It didn't occur to any of us that now we could run away and save ourselves. But, again, what Lat would let us in?

Often it would happen that when we reached the barracks the shooting would stop, and we would have to return right away to work in the factory to finish the night's work. So it was that frequently in the night, we would have to run back and forth a few times. We knew very well that soon this would come to an end, but what this end would be for us, slave workers, we didn't know.

WE ARE TAKEN TO GERMANY

On September 25, 1944, an order was issued that we should immediately prepare to be on the way to Germany. The low-ranking officer assured us that we are being taken to a factory. He even made a list of his workers. Once more people asked me to add this name and that, as many as possible, and the low-ranking officer did so.

We were lined up and waited for the order to start going to the port. At that time the Russians were no more than eight kilometers from Riga. At the gate of our barracks we saw a Russian, clad in disguise, spying, on a motorcycle. But what good did that do to us? we thought. Freedom is not for us.

We were so confused by the events around us, and so embittered that we didn't even see the ship that awaited us at the port. We only saw the people running like crazy, and we only knew that the Russians were coming to free Riga, but not us. Perhaps we were now going our last way.

A sign was given and we started to march. There were two ways to go: one was to the port, the other to Kaiserwald camp. So we thought as follows: If we will be led on the way to the camp, we may as well say farewell to life. But if we will proceed on the road to the port, may be it won't be too bad - but who knows? Maybe the intention is to take us out to sea and drown us there. Either way it would probably lead to our death. We marched in rows of five and when we reached the crossroad where one road leads to the camp and the other to the port, we could feel our hearts exploding with excitement. The end was that we turned toward the port.

We reached the terminal-gate. Here everything was void. Everyone had already been led out of here. So what is all the fuss with us? We wondered.

From the distance we could see the Riga Port, and a wave of people in striped clothes. My heart started to pound, as though with hammers: Perhaps I would soon find my brother Aaron here, I thought. (At that time I didn't yet know about the tragedy that exactly when I had saved Tzipeh Yerubimovitch, there was no one to ask for my brother - and the Germans murdered him).

I looked for the face of a relative, but in vain. The faces, both theirs and ours, were desperate. We looked at each other and asked: Where are they taking us?

We were chased onto a ship, we women - down low where the sand lay. We left dangerously embittered.

As soon as the ship began to move, we heard the roar of Russian planes, very close to us. There was now no doubt in our mind that we will soon be drowned.

The air was stuffy. We were hungry and thirsty but we weren't given anything except sea water. The water was so salty that we had to keep drinking constantly.

Meanwhile a woman told me that above, in a corner, a woman was sitting, who had been in the same 'Rasergirung' as my brother, and she claims that he's alive. I started to crawl like a beast, just to reach that woman who has such precious regards for me. True, she did tell me a lot about my brother and she assured me that he must be alive somewhere, but I couldn't believe it. If he was alive he would be here on the ship. Here people had been gathered from all the work-places.

SEASICKNESS AND UNNECESSARY FEAR

When I started to climb down, I suddenly got dizzy and felt like bringing up. With great difficulty I climbed back down and I threw myself down on the sand. Here I felt at home because everyone suffered the same nausea. We vomited the green bile so long until we started to ask for our death. That's how weak we felt.

Suddenly, through a hole, water started to enter and a terrible panic broke out, and all in one voice they cried out: 'They're drowning us!' For me it was all the same. I didn't even turn my head in the direction of where the water was coming from. But as soon as some of the sailors heard our screams, and they came down and sealed the holes, the voices immediately calmed down. It was exactly the eve of Yom Kippur. We decided not to fast, partially because of anger at the Rebbono Shel Olam (Master of the Universe), but from all our vomiting we couldn't even swallow a bit of water - salty water. Besides, there was nothing else, so we lay all day, weak and sick, and fasted anyhow. . .

The next day, after Yom Kippur, we recovered somewhat, I gathered courage and made my way up to the deck for some fresh air. Half-way up I felt sick and halted to catch my breath, but, my luck, an old SS man happened to go by and he saw me trying to sneak up and steal some of 'his' fresh air. He grabbed me by the neck and started to hoist me up, but with such shouts and with such anger, that I could have sworn that he would soon cast me into the water.

He finally stopped raging and let go of me. Here, on deck, the air was refreshing. A fellow offered me some water in a tin can, but not salty water, and it really delighted me. Meanwhile the SS man dragged up another few exhausted ones such as me, who probably followed me. But when he saw that I was feeling a little better, he started to chase me back down, with the same wild shouts.

After five such days we reached Danzig. We were chased off the ship and lined up in rows and told to be prepared to be on our way. Suddenly I saw two of my cousins in line, Ola and Rivatchke Hellerman. We hadn't seen each other for four years and we had plenty of troubles to tell one another. They had worked the whole time in Lenta. All the time they regretted that I hadn't been there with them. 'Maybe from now on we're destined to remain together,' they encouraged me.

We were taken to the famous death camp Stutthof. We were half-dead when we got there.

STUTTHOFF

When the large gates of Stutthof camp were opened for us and we entered fear struck us. The stench of burnt bodies greeted us and embraced us like our own. . .

We had to stop and wait for our new bosses to 'greet us.' As we were waiting, we had an opportunity to see what was happening in Stutthof camp. If a slave asked to be allowed to go into the barrack for a drink of water, he got beaten from all sides, until he fell on the sand, all bloodied. We looked chokingly and thought: Woe is us for where we have come to.

We were told to undress and we were inspected to make sure that we didn't have any valuables with us. I had a silver Magen David (Star of David) with me that my brother had made for me and had sent to the factory. On it was engraved: Camp inmate Kaiserwald, Riga, 1943-44 and both of our monograms. I used to wear it on a string like a precious jewel. Now a German woman ripped it off my neck with such anger that she nearly cut my throat.

Barrack number 17 was as large as a desert and full of lice, and we lay there, four of us on a narrow berth. To add to the discomfort, one could only lay down there, but not stretch out.

As we were lying down like this, a Russian street-woman came in to us, Shura was her name, and she began to tell us what a 'good' camp this was. She was in charge of us and she, in one stroke, made mud of us.

'Here it's not Latvia,' she scoffed. 'Here you will all be burned, one at at a time, you hear? Take a look in the distance at the smoke from the ovens. It requires its victims every day. Even on Sunday it doesn't cool down. . . At four o'clock everyone must be at roll-call and watch out - because otherwise you'll go into the ovens much sooner than you're expecting. . .'

Then she muttered: 'Russia is strong. Stalin is strong. He'll win. . .'

Our hearts sunk when we heard her words. We became mute with fear and in our hearts we all said farewell to life.

THE FIRST ROLL-CALL IN STUTTHOF

The next day it was our luck that it should be rainy and cold. Only in a dress we were driven out into the yard like dogs. This was October 1, 1944. Our bones were broken from the 'pleasant' ride on the sea, etc., and from our 'warm' sleeping quarters and we shivered from the cold and from the wet. We cuddled to one another and we immediately saw that from such a hell we won't come out alive.

Until 6 o'clock this is how we stood there freezing, getting beaten, and acclimatizing ourselves with the surrounding 'nature.' Not far from us the red crematorium fire was blazing and a breeze always carried the smell of burnt human-flesh our way.

At six o'clock supervisors came in wide black coats and with protective head wear so that the rain would not, God forbid, wet them and they started to tear off from our feet any good shoes. In their place we were given wooden clogs.

These superintendents we afterwards gave a name: 'Black ravens.' If they spotted anyone in possession of a pullover or any untorn clothing - they tore it off and administered a few blows at the same time for hiding this.

That's how the first roll-call passed in Stutthof.

Food was dished out to us from a wooden trough, just like for pigs. Into these troughs our food would be poured and covered up. Everything was poured into this, mainly leaves and water. It was neither meat not dairy, we used to joke, because it never contained any meat.

We went into the barracks, without our shoes, that is, but a few hours later the bell sounded again and we were once more chased outdoors into the cold and the rain. Again we stood there a few hours until we were served the mid-day meal, again from the same trough from which we were given 'coffee' in the morning. The noon meal consisted of water with unwashed cabbage leafs and nettles, but we gobbled down this 'soup' with such an appetite, as though it contained our whole salvation. After this 'noon meal' we were once more chased out into the yard and we were suffering until evening - supper time, which consisted of a piece of bread with a bit of dirty water and we were sent to sleep. That's how the first day in Stutthof passed. But all the following days were no different from the first.

We used to be lined up and told to run, and the murderers used to stand and watch. And if someone wasn't running so well, or fell, they were immediately taken aside. We knew very well what this signified - the day advanced and the furnaces did their work.

Once a murderer told me to run, so I ran so quickly that I couldn't believe myself that I could run so fast. But the desire to live can do wonders. Who wants the flames to swallow them and make ash of them one, two? So we ran, but not with our own strength. . .

We weren't allowed to go to the 'washroom' whenever we needed to. We were only allowed to go at night. At night, however, we were afraid to go because near the washroom the elder of the room slept and it was too bad for anyone who woke her up. Still, barefoot, I would sneak into the washroom and wash my hands and face a bit. There simply wasn't where to lie down, so I would run back, in one stretch. There was no sleep.


THE LOW-RANKING OFFICER OF THE A.E.G.
COMES TO SAVE US

One morning our Riga transport was called to come forth.

We lined up and suddenly saw, in the distance, the low-ranking officer whom we knew. Naturally, we rejoiced. Soon we were told that we are being transported to Torun to work in a factory, but only the cable workers. This amounted to around 350 women. The remainder were left here for the time being.

Now things got a little lighter for us because we hoped that another day or two we would be taken out of here. Our joy was lessened when we considered the women who would remain here.

On a cold October day ten women were taken out of our lines for work. I was one of the ten.

We were all taken, in uniform dresses, in a truck, to a port somewhere to unload sacks of sand.

Here we found British prisoners at work, so they treated us to some bread and other bits of food. Amongst these small things there was a box of raisins. When we divided this up there were 20 raisins for each of us. I didn't permit myself more than one raisin. The rest I hid for after work, for the exhausted ones in the camp.

The grain was in 100 kilo sacks. These sacks we carried over a narrow bridge, a board over the water, carried it ashore and loaded it on trucks.

When I used to carry this sack, together with someone else, on the board, I often felt that this bridge was crashing beneath us and that we would both drown. Besides, the sea breeze acted on us in such a way that we were both hot and cold.

After a day's work a small train took us back to the camp.

No one could compare themselves to me when I was able to put a few raisins in the mouth of some of the women whom I knew. Sometimes with a piece of bread as well. They kept their raisins in their mouth and spared chewing them and swallowing them.

Six days we worked like this and every day I managed to sneak something into the camp, and distributed it amongst my acquaintances: a bread, a head of cabbage etc., then the low-ranking officer told us that in a few days we are going away. So I asked to be released from work because I'm listed to go to work in a factory.

For such a request I got a blow in the head. Somehow, though, I remained and lived with the sustaining thought that soon we would leave this cursed camp.

I AVERT A DANGER

One fine day we were led to the bath house. When we took leave of the camp many of us said farewell to our lives. We were undressed completely and the doctor poked away at us, looking for an excuse to not let us go.

When my turn came, and I stood in front of the doctor, naked skin and bones, with swollen feet, I felt that I had to do something, because otherwise I will remain here. The minute he was to examine me however, a women supervisor entered and started talking with him so I quickly turned behind him and went into another house where the bath actually was. I nearly died of fear lest the doctor would come looking for me.

I was given a striped dress and an old, torn coat, a grey one, and I was sent to stand with colleagues who was waiting to be transported to Torun. I stood in line, still trembling with fear.

The women in the line who had seen what I had done, such a sin, were trembling along with me. . . If I was caught, that would be the end of me. But I was lucky.

After bathing we were all taken for roll-call. Again and again we were checked, according to our numbers, given a piece of bread for the way, and taken to a station.

All 350 of us were chased on with shouts, like sheep, in the few dirty train wagons that were standing waiting for us, and we felt that we will choke here.

Two days and nights we traveled, standing on our feet, without water or food. The piece of bread that had been given to us had to last for the whole way. But we gained hope from the thought that the place we were now being taken to would be much better than Stutthof.

WE REACH TORUN

On a cloudy November day we reached Torun. After such a 'nice' ride, we had to go on foot 10 kilometers, in rain and snow until evening when we reached Torun camp where we met another 500 women who had been sent here from Riga to work. All summer they worked deep underground, and they looked the colour of dead ones.

It was our luck that there was no more work in the eleventh port exactly when we arrived and they only needed about 200 of the former women. The next day the remainder were sent to Stutthof, indeed, with the same transport with which we came. The same soldiers who brought us took them back.

This embittered us very much because we knew to which suffering they were being taken and that in Stutthof they don't want such faces.

OUR MEETING WITH THE CHIEF GATE GUARD

For the night they told us to sleep on the bare ground. The following day it was raining so heavily that it was a shame to even let a dog out.

Quite early we were chased out to the yard, though we were still soaked through and through from yesterday. We had to meet the chief Gate Guard of whom we had heard frightening things. He doesn't pass by any woman without striking her in the head; such was told of him.

We saw at once that it would be no better for us here than at Stutthof, but at least here we won't smell the stench of the crematorium. And as long as we still work and not get sick, the murderer won't bother us.

The first day passed somehow, but the thought of those who were sent to Stutthof that day, to the crematorium, didn't leave us. . .

In the evening we were chased into the barracks. The women supervisors accompanied us with blows. Each one of us got an empty straw sack and a piece of bread. We spread out the straw sacks on the dirty floor and fell asleep, exhausted both from the trip and from standing like soldiers all day long.

The next day we were again lined up in the rain and the head gate guard showed up. Without too many preliminaries he told us to work well. If anyone will be suspected of the least sabotage, they will immediately be sent back to Stutthof and what Stutthof is you don't have to be told,' he ended.

On the way to Torun one of our women got a heart attack and she died right away. We buried her, and that's how our work in the Torun factory began.

IN A FACTORY IN TORUN

Here we had the same low-ranking officer and the same Lats as in Riga because they all ran with the Germans. The factory was a small temporary one, erected from the machines that were sent from Riga.

The officer told us that here it's not Riga, here it's Germany, and that we belong to the Stutthof camp. Most importantly, we should be on guard not to fall into SS hands. He knew that in Riga we roasted potatoes in the machines, but he kept quite because there were no SS there, nor Latvian guards. Here it's different and he told us to be careful.

After such preaching we understood that we have to be careful. . . We were still hungry, so we continued to roast potatoes in the machines while we worked in shifts, just as in Riga. I used to stand on guard to see if anyone was coming, deadly afraid, lest we get caught.

The factory was far from the barrack, and the barrack was so cold that we went to sleep with our clothes on. Often our clothes or our hair would freeze to the floor. Waking up in such conditions was much more difficult than falling asleep.

WE STEAL WOOD

We asked ourselves: Where can we get some wood to heat the place somewhat? We wracked our brains.

In the factory-yard there were empty barracks, so every night we tore out some boards and took them home until, slowly, in this manner, we took apart a whole barrack and a second one also. The guards didn't realize immediately what was happening, who the thief could be - and we greatly feared that the truth be discovered.

When there were no more barracks, we once saw a wagon in the dark, with wheels and with a seat, so we took it apart, and dragged it to the camp, with the wheels and with the shaft. Had there been a horse there, we would have dragged it away also and made ourselves a good meal.

The following day it's so happened that commissars came to the camp, searching, but it was too late. It passed without us being caught, because there simply wasn't time. It was already January, 1945. The Red Army had already captured Warsaw and Lodz.

Meanwhile things started to go a little better for us. Bunks were made for us to sleep on and conditions normalized somewhat. We did have some amongst us who were sick with typhus, but the main gate-keeper didn't know how sick they were. We hid this from him.

In the factory the heating was done with coal, so from the steam the water got hot, and at night, during work, we used to sneak into the 'steam-room,' wash, and sometimes even wash an item of laundry. This all had to be done secretly and with a system: Every evening 10-15 women would go to get washed. It was all hushed up.

The norm was large. For not accomplishing the norm we got 25 lashes. If anyone failed the second time her hair would get cut off and her head shaved. While one was getting lashed we lay on our bunks and covered our ears so as not to hear the wails.

There was a Lat here, Mikshan was his name, and when he appeared in the factory, fright gripped us, because we knew that after he left someone would be called out for lashing. For the least thing he would threaten with the crematorium.

WE ARE LED OUT OF TORUN

On January 20 we were suddenly informed that the factory is being moved deeper into Germany because the Russians are advancing. The Lats got scared and started to run like poisoned rats. Us, they lined up 4 o'clock in the afternoon in rows; it was our luck that it was a very frosty day. Each of us was given an empty straw bag and a piece of bread and the head gate-keeper - Blettershpil was his name - told us that we are now being taken to a labour camp, and anyone who tries to run away will be shot on the spot.

We started to march we were dressed lightly - summery, just with a blanket over our shoulders. It was a bright night. The moon shone in our faces and the biting cold got worse and worse.

We loaded the sick on quickly constructed sleds and pulled them. everyone had to pull. We pulled with our last bit of strength, though we ourselves should have been pulled, frozen as we were. But we were afraid to show weakness, because those who couldn't keep going remained on the road and froze to death.

We didn't know where we were going, but from the movement of the civilians on the road we understood that something is happening very close to here.

We left one sled with sick in the forest and continued walking. Bella Blumberg from Libaveh was with me in my row; Rokhele Tzadovitsh, from Dvinsk; and a woman called Shaty from Kovna (Kaunua). We all felt that it was better to stay here in the forest than to go suffering, but we encouraged one another and didn't let anyone of us stop.

At dawn a snow storm started blowing and it cut like with knives. We no longer had the strength to encourage one another and we started to fall like flies. We didn't even try to pick anyone up.

Finally we reached a two kilometre bridge over the Vistula - Pforden. At the end of the bridge I felt that I was dying. Someone shoved a piece of bread into my mouth but I simply couldn't open my mouth, that is how frozen and faint I was. More than one of us felt the pain of now, when we were so close to liberation, we have to one by one freeze to death. They rubbed my face so long until I finally swallowed the piece of bread with much difficulty, and I felt a bit better.

OUR GROUP OF FIVE RUN OFF

When we entered the village Pforden we immediately saw that the population was very confused and the army was running around helter-skelter. We understood very well what this means: This means liberation. But would we be allowed to see the longed for liberation? We will be shot right away, like all our dear ones.

The population looked at us as upon wild beasts. None of them had pity on us. No one offered us a piece of bread.

We were taken into the yard of a paper factory and allowed to rest for half an hour. We lay down on the ground like chopped down, but it was very dangerous to get up after a march of 53 kilometers. But an order is an order so here we were, once more lined up and on the go.

On the way we cut through forests and to tell the truth, in these last moments we were in great fear of forests. . . some of the women ran off to side roads, but the majority of the women continued on the way.

Twelve kilometers later we came to the German city Bromberg-Bidnastche. It was eight in the evening the soldier said. Around us it was burning and the army started to chase us in all directions and then back to Pforden because they themselves didn't know where to run.

Now there was a chance to escape because the confusion was great. Basia Kling and Tzippe Yerushimo were standing near me and we consulted each other. Suddenly Rokhele Tzadovich heard the head gate-keeper say to a women guard that within half an hour we must leave town.

We started to fear this half hour and we decided we mustn't be in sight of the Germans. We must save ourselves.

SUDDENLY THEY BECOME LOYAL TO US

But where should we go? All around us we heard only Polish being spoken and we didn't know Polish. But we mustn't lose a minute. I looked heavenward, to the stars, and said: 'Mama dear, help me. . .' I and a few other left the line and went into a yard. A Pole told us that opposite there are empty barracks where it's possible to hide. But at that moment three people approached us with calls. Basia Kling ran away but I and Rokhele Tzadovitch remained standing.

'What are you looking for here,' they shouted to our face.

I quickly answered with an excuse that we're looking for an outhouse.

'Go in the street,' one of them said, and he asked us where we come from and if we speak Russian. This he already said in a soft pleasant voice. So I asked them to save us and help us hide. Now they started to speak Russian to us, telling us that the Red Army is coming tomorrow and that they will hide us all. They told us that in half an hour we should go into the house here and they'll find a place for us to hide.

We went to call the rest but when we came back an air bombardment started so we remained waiting at the gate until it would end. In half an hour the gate was opened. We were let in and told where to stay. We entered in the darkness and stood holding our breath, listening to the shooting.

Suddenly we heard the telephone ring and from the conversation we understood that there is talk about women who escaped from transport and who must be found. Here we were in the hands of the police, we thought to ourselves, and who knows what may happen to us.

In the dark there were men about, so I gathered courage and asked one of them if they will report us.

'Have no fear,' he replied, 'we'll only take you over to another place, in a cellar room, because here an SS man may turn up.'

We were sure that we were being tricked, but what was there to do?

We were taken to a dark room where we felt two hard beds. On these two beds we sat down and each of us was handed a cup of hot tea with a piece of a bagel and with a piece of vursht. The hot sweet tea felt so good that we started to cry. We thanked the men very kindly for the treat, but whom we were thanking we really didn't know. What would tomorrow bring - the thought gave us no rest. Would it be freedom or a bullet?

At dawn a German came and said that he must lock us in with a lock. At 12 o'clock a higher-up German will come and make an inspection before leaving Bromberg. He told us to watch out and not look through the window - and - he finished - if it will be so destined, you will save yourselves. They have another 12 women here, but they have to report them. We began to plead on behalf of the 12 women and we were promised that the women will be released only after the SS men will already have left the city. . . then they will be able to save themselves.

This was the German police. It was to them that the telephone call had been made previously about women who had escaped and who had been caught. The police did as we asked because they wanted to save themselves. . . in case the Germans return, they'll be able to say that they had informed about the captured women to the SS but it was already too late.

OUR LIFE HANGS IN THE BALANCE

Around 12 o'clock we saw through the frozen windows, a group of SS men. We laid down on the floor, afraid even to breathe. We kept casting our eyes outside. The SS were parking on an auto. Suddenly a woman, a Pole, entered, and she saw us laying on the floor. There was no doubt in our minds that she would report us. I started to plead with her, kissing her hands, with tears in my eyes, to have pity on us. My tears and my little bit of Polish were effective. She said that she just has to take a chair and she won't do us any harm. In her cellar there are also two women hiding, dressed in the same striped clothing as us. She promised to come to us as soon as the Germans leave town, and she told us to be very quiet because soon the SS will reach the rooms.

We lay in fright and counted the minutes to our freedom. From so much tension we couldn't imagine what freedom will be like. Meanwhile we heard the murderous sounds getting closer and here they are already at our doors. We actually held our breath and if this had gone on for some minutes, we wouldn't have survived it. But one of our 'saviours' we heard telling the Germans that the room hasn't been heated for half a year and there is nobody there. Someone even touched the door knob, and we nearly died of fear - but they went back out to the yard, got into the autos and rode away.

We looked out and saw our 12 women and we were sure that they are being taken to be shot, but it turned out that they were just being taken to a policeman who at the last minute, became a 'Jew-friend' - according to what we were told after the liberation and he hid them, the way we were hidden. Those who hid us, the 'friends' were not Germans, but Poles who served with Germans and now wanted to be rehabilitated, because they wanted to have witnesses that they were just and righteous. Just one short month ago they would certainly have 'buried' us.

BRUISED AND WOUNDED WE WAIT

Meanwhile it became night. We lay in the cold room, frozen and hungry and actually cried with fear, from tension and from. . . 'comfort.'

Suddenly we heard a knock at the window and soon after someone came in, dressed in civilian clothes. Soon the Pforden bridge will be blown up, he told us, but 'don't be afraid.' He said that he would stay here with us until the liberation. He is a Pole. He served with the police, but not as a policeman, just as a contingent. . .

Our hearts felt a little lighter. Who knows? Maybe our salvation will come from him? Incidentally, he brought us some coffee and bread - so we were a bit revived. He advised us to go into a nearby room, so we listened to him. Here we at least found a few covers/blankets, so we lay down on the floor and wanted to sleep. But who could sleep? So we lay all night and listened.

The next day, Tuesday, the front was even closer and the bombing was actually going on over our heads. We were sure that any minute a bomb would blow us to splinters. We felt that everything was burning around us. This was the work of the Germans who set fire to all the buildings they left behind. 'They are throwing hand grenades,' the Pole explained to us.

Meanwhile another night passed and it was already Wednesday. We lay still listening. Now we had no bread left. There were five of us women and one Pole who, if we will be liberated, he wants us to say that he helped us. He is a Baptist. He believes in the Sabbath. . . He says that in Bromberg he hasn't seen any Jews for the last six years. (Because you buried them, I thought to myself at that time). 'Now,' he said, 'we'll get rid of the murderers.'

He sat there, babbling, and we wanted to tear him to pieces, but for the time being fettered. There seemed to be no end to the shooting, and who knows what will become of us.

Wednesday night we heard some tumult in the yard. The door opened and the Polish woman entered. We must go down to the cellar where the Poles and Germans are hiding. The Russians are already in parts of the city.

In the cellar we found whole families of Germans and Poles, with babies, bags and supplies. As soon as they saw us come in they came to us from all sides with food. . . but every piece of bread and vursht burned in our fingers. Six years they bathed in our blood and in our suffering - these nice guys - now we had no use for them. We immediately picked ourselves up and returned to our previous room.

DEATH LOOKS US IN THE FACE

The Polish woman managed to lock us up again, but no longer with a lock - when we suddenly heard heavy steps and someone, in anger, opened our door slightly, grabbed a chair and left. This is our end, we thought for a moment, but we weren't spied. The soldier needed the chair to mount his machine gun on it. He mounted his machine gun right near our window and started to shoot. He was shooting at the Russians. They - at him. Every 'word' of this 'dialogue' shook us up.

Bromberg is a city with canals and is surrounded by canals. That's why it took the Russians time to capture it. They used to stand on one side and the others on the opposite side of the canal and fight it out.

That's how the night of Wednesday-Thursday passed. We lay and listened with bated breath as, in response to every one of 'ours' a response comes from the Russians and vice versa.

On Thursday the walls of our hideout started to collapse. At midday a bomb struck a nearby room where a piano stood. The keys spontaneously struck such grotesque sound that is indescribable, but it passed over our heads like a dull knife. We lay trembling lest the soldier might want to take a look and see what was in the room behind him. Towards night we understood from the shooting that the Russians are very close to us. On the walls we saw the reflection of fire and we could smell smoke. The shooting got quieter and quieter. Suddenly, from distance we heard a metallic melody: Din, din, din. . . . The Pole, a former soldier tells us quietly that these are Russian tanks. We didn't want the melody to stop. When it stopped for a minute our hearts nearly tore apart. The noise of the tanks actually nourished our exhausted hearts.

LIVED TO BE LIBERATED

The night of Thursday-Friday we once more didn't close our eyes. Around 10 o'clock the Polish woman set us free. She came into us with a few other Poles. They brought us wine, kissed us and congratulated us.

We grabbed the wine because we were so faint we couldn't get up from the floor. To our freedom in the yard we had to be taken, like young children.

In the yard my first thought was: This is it? We're really free? No more number 94771? No more guards at our sides, with guns aimed at us?

And now we saw that our room was the only one to remain whole. All the others are destroyed, burnt. Who was it who protected us in those last five days, and in fact the whole time - God? Is there still a God in the world? If so why did he let us suffer so much and be murdered? Why miracle now? . . .

With such thoughts in mind I dragged myself in the snow to the house of the Polish woman and immediately my brother Aaron sprung to mind.

Is he still alive and will I ever be privileged to see him again? And will I yet live to tell all that I have endured to my sister in Canada or my brother in the Land of Israel?

With much difficulty I climbed up to the fifth floor where the Polish woman prepared a meal for us with meat and the best of everything that she had stolen from the stores, in German stores, just as she probably a short time ago stole from Jewish stores. Now she treated us very nicely, but a friend soon came in, a military man, a 'friend' of ours, probably a former fascist, and brought shoes for us women.

And right after him a group of Russians entered and told us that we can go and rob from the German homes, just as we had been robbed. 'Take revenge,' they told us.

Of course we wanted to take revenge on our present 'friends,' the Latvians, the Lithuanians and the Germans, but we were hungry, exhausted and full of lice, so we went into the abandoned houses and took only clothes and underwear so that we could cast off our striped slave-clothes, the witnesses of our pain and our massive death. I found a brown dress, a blouse and pair of socks. I put it all on and went out free. But my heart shouted: 'With whom am I free? All alone. Where do I go now? - back to the bloody land? No way! Remain here in a strange land, without the language, without a sense of belonging? How will I be able to live here all alone? And why, my God am I the selected one from all of my family?

The Pole took us to his place for a week, then I went away to work washing clothes for the returning men from the camps and from Soviet Russia - anything rather than have to depend on others. For the time being it was not much better than by the Germans, but the fact is that we were free. We had a name not a number for a name, and no longer were guns pointed at us.

It was really freedom but a difficult and bitter one. It was, therefore, that I began to think about searching for my dear ones on the other side of the ocean and about going to them.

22.6.1941- 25.1.1945


APPENDIX

Adilberg, Nata
Alis, Roza
Antirol, Laibe
Apter, Nachum, burial society
Astrinski, Chana
Azbel, Nina
Baylinson, Dr.
Baylinson, Ms. nurse
Berger, Bertha
Blumkin, Paulye, cousin
Blumkin, Roza, cousin
Bossman, Rivele
Botzianu, Dr.
Bravo, Miriam
Chanuch, Dr.
Chatziantz, Drs. husband and wife
Dismond, police officer
Domya, Dr.
Doneman, Dr.
Dritz, Laibe
Edelstein, Fran, Judenrat member
Fanariyov, a barber-surgeon
Flexer, Leah
Frankel, Rosa
Gitelson, Mina
Gurewitz, Dr.
Gurewitz, Roey
Gurwich, Toder Ms. midwife
Halperin, Chana
Hellerman, Mendel, cousin
Hellerman, Musia, aunt
Hellerman, Ola, cousin
Hellerman, Riva, cousin
Kitzer, Eda, cousin
Kling, Basia
Kroin, Dr. eye doctor
Kroin, Yasha, Judenrat member
Landau, Dr.
Landau, Frau
Landau, Frau, supply depot staff
Levine, Frau, stationery depot staff
Lipovska, Izerele
Lobotsky, Dina, mother's sister
Lukenwald, Kandor, chief of the Fortress
Maggid, Zivka
Malarska, Riva
Mednikov, Leah
Mednikov, Tzilla
Movshenzon, Mishe, Judenrat member
Muller, Dr. dentist
Munitz, Yudl
Oken, Alter
Opler, Nachum, Burial Society member
Pasternak, police officer
Prezmo, Dr. dentist
Queen, Dr. dentist
Rapaport, Berl, Judenrat member
Rapaport, frau, kitchen staff
Rosenberg, Lenny
Rosenblum, dr.
Rozanatanova, Edelberg
Schneider, Gitte
Shapiro, Mary
Sher, Fraida
Sher, Motl
Shlosberg, Chaymin
Sigal, Dr.
Silin, Dr. dentist
Slivkin, Emma
Snider, Mendel, uncle
Stein, Dora
Strikovitch, Burial Society member
Stykowitz, Dr.
Tolty, Ms. nurse
Vopnik, Leah
Wofsi, Dr. Sophia
Wofsy, Dr. internist
Wolfsky, Eli. pharmacist
Zarch, Raja
Zarch, Rebecca
Zaltzman, Rosa, sister-in-law
Zeligman, Rosa
Zislin, Frau
Zitlman, Bainish

 

 

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