Memoir: Dreaming and Survival

Montreal, August 10, 1995

 

Motto: The whole life is dreaming and to survive, that story goes to everybody, all over the world.

I. EARLY LIFE: GHEORGHENI-GARANY

 

We were a happy middle-class family, living in Gheorgheni, a small town in Transylvania, with a population of 15,000 people, mostly Hungarian and Rumanian, and some 1,000 Jews.

In 1936 I had my "barmicva" (Bar Mitzva) in our synagogue, my parents were proud of me as the only boy they had, beside the two of my sisters, Gizi at the age of 21 and Manci of 24.

My father Jakab, at the age of 47, he got up at 6 in the morning, started at 7 till 5 at night, six days a week, as manager for a lumber processing factory. The town was surrounded by dense Carpathian forests, for that reason the main business of this community was the exploration and processing of the trees into lumber.

My mother Poly, three years younger as my father, took care of the housework, she was the boss in the house, my father was known as an honest, silent and dutiful man, who loved his family, especially me the smallest, the boy. We weren’t rich, we didn’t have our own house, but both my sisters finished the 4 class lyceum, then learned a profession, as dress-maker and hat-maker.

My parents saved their money to provide me an education, which I got in the lyceum, the only one in the town. I was a medium level student, I loved soccer and skiing. I played tennis too, which was a sacrifice for my parents, as it was an expensive sport at that time.

After barmicva, on my father’s insistence for a couple months I prayed every morning, I put on the ‘twilem,’ (tephilin) but later I lost interest. As I child I had to go in ‘chayder,’ there I learned Yiddish but never understood what I was reading, therefore not too much stuck to me. We went every holiday to the synagogue, at ‘Sukkot’ I was more interested to play in the courtyard ‘walnuts in the hole,’ till my father chased me in the synagogue, to pray. The same time at Christmas we had a big tree in the house, with gifts, and on Santa Claus morning we found in our shoes, candies and chocolate bars. That was how we adapted to the local Christian customs, traditions, we celebrated together, there was no difference between Jews and Hungarians.

As children, all three of us including my two sisters, spent summer vacations at my grandparents--from mother’s side--they were in a better position, than the ones from my father’s side, they were poor. My grandfather, David Ignacz was living in a village, same in Transylvania, in one day trip from us by train. At the beginning he had a store, as my grandmother she was sick, the last 15 years she was laying on her bed in a dark room, she had depression, a sickness which at that time was a luxury to be treated.

I heard that story from my uncles, the ones from my mother’s side, they were seven brothers, she the only girl, how her marriage was arranged. In the courtyard, next to the house was the latrine, with two holes for the adults and in the same premise two small holes for the children, so it could be used by four persons at the same time. Here sitting, the two grandfathers discussed and decided about my parent’s marriage, since they, the youths, for the first time met each other.

This part of Transylvania where we were living, belonged to Rumania. Besides Jews I had a lot of Hungarian and Rumanian friends. On my father’s side, we had at least 20 related families. I remember once, after a Purim party, my father, who seldom drank alcohol, was brought home in a wheelbarrow by one of his cousins, my mother gave him the proper reception. We children heard the story many times, how upset our mother was and how afraid our cousins were of my mother’s sharp tongue.

We boys and girls participated in many excursions by foot to the 25km distance of Lacul Rosu (Gyilkosto), where we slept in tents and climbed up to the high mountains. In the cold and long winters I took ski tours in the surrounding mountains, and I skated almost every day.

After I finished the 4 class lyceum in 1938, my parents wanted me to have more education, they sent me to Tg. Mures, a bigger city, to high school. Here I had a chance to study two more years, when it started the change in my life.

The Second World War broke out, Hungary being allied to Germany. Transylvania was taken from Rumania and given to Hungary. My father who in the World War I as a Hungarian sergeant fought for Hungarians, was happy that our town became part of Hungary. In Rumania in the mean time the Iron-Guard activity started, concentrated on the persecution of Jews.

At the end of 1939 I was affected by one of the Hungarian anti-Semitic laws introduced, as only 6% of the students in a class were permitted to be Jews. I finished the 7th class business high school, where of 38 students we were nine Jews, and only two were accepted to go further. I had to go back to our small town, now Gyergyosfeutmiklos where my parents and my older sister--after a divorced marriage--lived together. My younger sister married too, but she was living in Brasov, in a city which remained part of Rumania. My parents’ dream to assure me a higher education ended here, at the age of 17.

In Tg. Mures I participated in the Zionist movement ‘Betar,’ we took part in the meetings, same I did later returning in my town, hoping to go in the future to Israel.

The only job I got was working in a lumber factory as unskilled labourer, hard work, I carried heavy wood bars on my back, outside, sometimes in cold winter of -32êC. That was the time when working together with other workers, I heard from them, that the only way I would have a chance to get back to a normal life, to continue my studies, if we fight against the fascists and help the Soviet Army to take over Transylvania, to be free again. My connection with the then existing illegal organization was through a co-worker, he asked me to collect money from friends for helping with food the many political persons kept in prisons.

In the spring of 1941, early morning, we heard knocks at the door, my father opened, two gendarme with cock-feather ornamented hat, came in looking for Smil Andràs. They chained me and I was taken to a school for interrogation. Many others were arrested as communists. I was beaten till I signed a paper in front of me. My sister who was looking for me, she was arrested and beaten too, because she gave me money for helping the political prisoners.

They let us go home, but on July 10, 1941 both of us, as many others we were chained and with the gendarme escort, we were taken by train to Budapest in a Central Prison. From there my sister and myself we were sent to separate internment camps.

One of the saddest moments of my remembering was when, escorted by gendarmes, me and my sister we were taken to the train station, our father followed us behind the lines, watching the way his loved ones were taken away.

My sister spent 10 months in camp, myself 13 months in Garany, a camp not far from Kosice--today Czechoslovakia. Many hundreds of us, we were pressed together in an abandoned horse-stable, surrounded with fence and guarded by Hungarian policemen.

In the camp I met many older anti-fascist fighters, they taught me about the resistance against the existing system. Here we lived in collectives formed by the cities we came from, we helped each other with food received from our relatives or friends from outside, same with money we bought food from local farmers. I was a good-looking 18-19 year old young boy, with a reddish curly hair, that is why I got a nickname ‘Rusty’ (Rozsdàs). I was healthy, one of the best volleyball players in the camp.

My father visited me once, for him it was a two-day trip by train, he got one hour visiting time, he told me about my mother, who since me and my sister were taken away, she got sick in a depression.

After we left to go home, my sister and me, we were under police supervision, we had to present every day to the police-station, we were not permitted to stay out after 9:00 p.m. All my Jewish friends were taken to Hungarian forced labour, me I wasn’t trustworthy for this work. My Hungarian friends, with whom we played soccer together, now they don’t want to recognize me, in their shops they put the sign: "Jews not be allowed to enter."

My younger sister living on the Rumanian side, wrote to us to run away over their side, but I didn’t want to leave my parents.

 

II. DEPORTATION (GHETTO--AUSCHWITZ)

 

In early spring, 1944 a decree was issued: Jews must display on the left breast of their clothes, always visible, the Star of David. Specifications were given and accordingly the Jews made and wore the yellow star, some were arrested for not wearing it properly.

Third day in May, at dawn, we awoke to loud knocks on our door, upon opening it, two gendarmes faced my father instructing him to pack quickly-- "All Jews must leave their homes." With suitcase, bundles and backpack, my parents, elder sister and myself joined the others in the school. Nine hundred eighty-six souls were collected, less than a dozen families without children and the old returned home alive after the war. A couple of days later escorted by gendarmes we travelled by train to the ghetto in Szàsarégen, where we were deposited in a deserted brick factory. Families settled in the brick dryer, a structure three storeys high and open on all sides. About 4,000 people were cramped in the empty factory, babies, children, women of all ages, invalids and the very old, encircled by gendarmes and police. I was 21 years old, among but a handful of people in my age group. All men between 20 and 40 years old were taken into labour force earlier. I wasn’t reliable for it since I have been a political prisoner. I was mostly in the yard with the younger children under some tents we put up or forced to work when transports arrived. Many received beatings, including my father, to give up their hiding-places for jewelry and gold, some did tell. My father entrusted a friend for safe-keeping a small box with a few pieces of jewelry, our family inheritance. He received a severe beating but didn’t give it up. After we returned home, my sister asked the friend to return the box, she gave it to the police, she lied.

A month later the ghetto was emptied out, we marched to the station where the gendarmes pushed us into cattle wagons. Between 70 and 80 people were squeezed into each car. Our family was together. Lying down was impossible, some were sitting on suitcases, the rest standing up against each other. Doors were locked and we were on our way to an unknown destination. I was given the responsibility to empty the bucket with our bodily discharges and get drinking water in one bucket, when the door opened once a day. The bucket of water was soon finished and people dropped from dehydration and several died. It was a hot June and inside the car little air moved through the tiny window, grilled with barbed wire. An old man refused to believe as most of us did, they we’ll not leave Hungary, he killed himself cutting his wrist. We travelled more than a week when the door slid open and a S.S. officer climbed in. He said: "Families will not be separated" and asked what was our occupation? I answered: "I repair bicycles and my sister is a dress-maker." He replied: "You have nothing to worry about, you will be working and support your parents." Doors locked, the train moved slowly, the ones near the window could see German soldiers with dogs, S.S. officers, men in striped suits but everyone heard the noises and felt the fear. We arrived in Auschwitz.

The door opened and we were off the train after more than a week of hellish journey. We were ordered to leave our belongings behind. German soldiers were beating down on us with clubs and rifle butts, dogs barking, screaming, confusion, panic. Prisoners in stripes moving quickly through the wagons, throwing our belongings into piles. Men and women were separated. I was holding my father’s hand, I am sure my sister was holding my mother’s. It was the last time I saw my mother alive! She was 52 years old. More beatings, we are shoved forward then stop. Facing us, a group of S.S. officers, some in white coats, "the selection committee." The S.S. officer with conductor’s baton in hand would point and the chosen were marched away toward the tall chimney with dense smoke rising from it, the rest pushed on in ranks of five. We stopped in front of a large barracks, we are ordered to undress. All the hair on our bodies was shaved off, we stood naked but for the shoes and belt in our hands which we were allowed to keep. From a barrel we apply a liquid disinfectant over our bodies, then pushed in the shower. We get striped prison clothes and cap. Inside the barracks we were assigned to wood frames that formed three platforms, one on top of another. With my father and some others from our community, we find a space on one of the platforms. Here, in the barracks, prisoners called "Block-Aelsters" and "Stube-diensts" ruled over us with beatings and harsh words. They called us "pigs," "shits," "assholes" and we obeyed like a submissive herd of animals. The German I learned in my last year of high school and the little Yiddish I knew became very useful. We marched back in the yard for roll-call and waited for hours, this was to be done daily, sometimes twice. Then, we lined up at the entrance to our barracks with our feeding spoon and tin bowl in hand to get a cup of watery soup dished from a barrel. Back inside the barracks in shirts and underwear we lay on the wooden planks, using some clothing for a pillow. We were packed like sardines, when one of us turned, his neighbours had to turn too. We worked during the day, mostly on road construction, but sometimes some of us were assigned to kitchen duty transporting barrels with food or empty ones. This was an especially good job since we were able to scrape some food from the bottom of the barrel. We carried our spoon in our pocket never knowing when but always hoping to find some food. Sometimes waiting in the yard for hours, the wind was so cold, we formed small groups standing tight together, like cattle in the winter we warmed each other with our bodies. When slightly warmed, the ones in the centre had to move to the outside and the ones frozen by the cold wind, moved to the centre of the group. One day, standing in such a group I was told by an older prisoner, a "Häftling" (senior prisoners, mostly Polish Jews, in charge of regular prisoners) that the smoke rising from the tall chimney was the crematorium, where the selected ones were burned. I didn’t believe it nor did many others until later. After the war, back in Rumania my sister told me that after selection she was separated from our mother, "You will see her after the shower" she was told. Later, she started to search for our mother and asked a "Stube-dienst," who replied pointing her finger: "Look at the chimney, do you see the smoke rising? That’s your mother!" She didn’t believe it. In the next three months, she noticed in the shower how some weak and emaciated women were dragged away, never to be seen. She understood the black smoke rising to the sky. Similarly, standing in the yard I found out who were the "Canadians." The "Häftlings" assigned to work at the crematorium, considered the best job in the camp, were nicknamed "the Canadians." This is how I came to the belief that Canada must be the best place in the world. I didn’t know much about Canada, there was the large Niagara waterfalls, the Canadian quintuplets and I heard it was the land of many lakes. As a boy from a small town, the largest city I visited was Budapest, but the life in the West and America was like a dream to me.

About two weeks later I enlisted for a work transport. The Germans were looking for men with skills. Ever since I was a young boy I fixed things around our house and was handy in bicycle repair so my father insisted I enlist as a mechanic, my life would be better and we’ll meet again he consoled me, he would remain with his townsfolk. It was my last night with my father!

 

III. BUCHENWALD-BOCHUM

 

Next day, in a transport of 434 "Politische Ungarn Jude," back in the freight train and transported to Buchenwald. Here too the welcome party were S.S. soldiers with dogs and more beatings. Disinfectant, shower, standing naked as my personal facts were noted down, a "schreiber" (prisoner) recognized me-- "Is that you Rusty?" He was Weiss Zoli from Munkacs, we served together in the Garany camp as political prisoners. He informed me that the internal everyday running of Buchenwald was in the hands of the senior political prisoners. It was convenient for the Germans, because there was order, no one was stealing the food and when something needed to be done, the selected men were promptly produced for work. This is how I learned about the existence of the underground movement. This was one of the oldest camps, founded in 1937, it was here that the first political opponents to the National Socialists (the Nazis) were imprisoned, starting with the Germans, then after occupying other countries, came the Poles, Czechs, the French and Dutch and many others. These senior political prisoners formed the nucleus of what became the underground movement (International Resistance Organization). One of the goals of the organization was to help the young and the politically trusted multinational prisoners and the ones with deep dislike for the Nazis, to survive and be ready to fight for the liberation of the camp and to smash Nazism at the opportune moment. Zoli added that from the transport I arrived with, only a few men were identified as trusted people for the underground. My contact with the organization was through Weiss Micky.

We received a shirt, pants, cap and striped coat of rough canvas, shoes with wood soles. On our coats a yellow triangle, "U" in centre for "Ungarische." Non-Jewish political prisoners had a red one, criminals green. Under the triangle our numbers. Mine was 59869.

In this camp the crematorium was to the right of the main entrance next the "Appell-Platz" (the roll-call yard).

When the hair on our heads grew back to about three-quarter inches, with hand clipper, a strip was shaved in the centre of our heads, to be differentiated and humiliated at the same time if we escaped, nevertheless some tried but most were caught and on "Appell-Platz" all prisoners were present to watch how they were hung.

From Zoli I learned that our transport was to leave for work to Bochum in the Ruhr region soon. The S.S. leased prisoners to large German factories. We arrived in Bochum and put up camp. The "Lagerältester" of the camp was Bauer Otto, an old political prisoner, a German, in Buchenwald since its beginning, a leader of the underground organization. I was assigned to work in the ammunition factory, mostly the night shift. With long pliers I removed the red hot bomb shell from the furnace and placed it under a large hydraulic press to receive its form. It was very hot, half-naked, water pouring down on us. It was known that few survived here for more than four weeks. We received twice daily a dark liquid, the Germans called it coffee, but it was black bitter water and not enough to replenish the lost fluids. After two weeks at this job my finger got squeezed in the pliers, it was broken and swollen, next day in the infirmary at the doctor’s suggestion I was transferred to another workplace. This is how I escaped an inevitable state of complete exhaustion, ending in my death. My new work, inside the factory was to place a big bomb shell in a large lathe machine, as the bomb turned a knife shaved its skin. While the lathe was running I took naps or sneaked to the washroom where we exchanged information or received news, such as the allied forces landings. I can’t forget how one day my old German foreman, a severe man with the prisoners, sneaked me an onion, what a delicacy it was!

Ever since leaving Auschwitz, five of us, young men from the same region, tried to stick together. Our Buchenwald numbers were in sequence. We soon learned how important it was for our survival to belong in a group. We looked out for each other, we guarded against anyone trying to steal our saved up daily portion of food while one of us slept or when a Ukrainian prisoner attacked one of us to take his belt, we rushed to his help.

In the morning we got a cup of coffee and in advance our "lunch": a thin slice of bread, a tiny cube of margarine and a thin slice of salami or a drop of marmalade, at night a cup of watery soup. Some couldn’t resist and consumed their daily allotted portion at once, but most of us kept it safe inside our shirt and despite the hunger we all felt, rationed it. Our group was lucky, Peter worked in the kitchen and Mickey as guard around the kitchen so they provided our group with some extra food. In gatherings, the talk often turned to food, the kind of food we ate back home, our favourite dishes and the quantities we consumed. Most of our dreams were about food also. Some "Kapos" were mean and ruthless. Once, a Kapo who enjoyed beating up on prisoners, received a serious beating in the washroom from the men in the underground. He didn’t dare report it to the S.S. knowing that the consequence will be worse and stopped the beatings. In the misery we encountered each day, mostly the young kept their sense of humour. When one of us fell asleep early from exhaustion someone would open his fly and tie a spoon to his organ. The spoon hung down outside his bed and when he turned, caused him discomfort, but provided us a good laugh. Another practical joke was to loosen the board in the upper bunk and when the poor soul climbed in bed he fell through, into a pail of water.

The bombings have started. Every night the American planes would fly above and carpet bomb for two to three hours. Bombs were exploding around us and fires were burning everywhere. During the first bombings we hurried into the shelter but later we didn’t care anymore and remained in our beds. One night a bomb hit our shelter, out of some 400 prisoners many died. We raced out and ran through the fire straight to the kitchen to find some potato skins. After, the S.S. soldiers put us to gather the dead. I carried the maimed bodies and limbs and piled them like logs. No emotions, the only thought in mind: "Look for food!"

The factory I worked in, was also hit by bombs, and I was assigned to a small group of three to four prisoners. My group guarded by a German soldier walked to the unexploded bombs in the city where we took out the fuse. The area around us was cordoned off, the German soldier waited for us securely beyond the cord. As soon as the soldier was out of sight, we searched the houses in the cordoned off area, for food. When we come upon food storage placed in the apartments, we ate as much as we could and stored the rest in the side bags, we always carried on us, for our friends in the camp. We didn’t hurry and once our belly was full, the expert in our group would walk slowly to the bomb and remove the fuse. Some bombs exploded and the crew was killed, but we were desensitized and driven by a primary instinct: "Hunger." Thus for a few baked potatoes we didn’t mind the risks. The people who did this work were also called "Canadians." Any job that provided additional food was as good as being in Canada.

Hunger made us sick, we behaved like animals. Some dying in their bunks were watched by his neighbours and as soon as he passed out they grabbed his daily provision.

I could never imagine how some could sleep while marching, when I heard this. But it happened to me a few times, when returning from the factory, exhausted and hungry, to the camp some kilometers away. At times like that, to the clinking sounds of our wood shoes on the pavement, we marched holding each other up like a herd of cattle on a drive, we closed eyes and slept marching.

In winter to protect ourselves from the bitter cold, some of us obtained large empty cement paper bags, used in construction. We wore this paper, over our shirts, infinitely valuable. It made me realize what a great insulator paper was.

Many perished, especially the old, the large and heavy men, the weak ones and the ones who worked hard, as the calories they ingested were much less than the calories they burned. That is why, when doing hard physical labour the Häftling would say: "Slow, slow down, work when the supervisor is around" to save our energies.

It was known to inmates that among the German Kapos who lived well, many were homosexuals. They would select from the young a few victims, who for food would satisfy their needs.

Towards the end, Weisz Micky, my contact to the underground movement, helped me to become the servant of the Lagerältester Otto. He had his own room which I kept clean, also his boots, brought his food from the kitchen and cleaned the dishes. This job afforded me more food, so I was able to share it with my friends.

IV. LIBERATION--BUCHENWALD

 

It was March when the Allied forces were approaching us. In a rush we were given a couple of days’ food portions and a blanket then cramped in open freight cars and sent back to Buchenwald. The trip took almost a week during which many died. Many transports were returning and I was witness to how one Kapo who abused prisoners was executed by the resistance men inside Buchenwald.

I was working in the stone quarry. It was very hard work. Under S.S. supervision in a group of about 100 prisoners we moved heavy stones. It was windy and cold. For no reason whatsoever the S.S. guards would shoot prisoners in the head. At the end of each day we carried their bodies back to camp. I was transferred from barracks to barracks,. One night I saw two "Häftlings" hide rifles under the floor planks.

First days in April; lots of confusion in the camp. The news that the American army was near spread through the camp. As transports were returning the camp swelled. The S.S. were forming groups of 5,000 prisoners, two to three such groups were marched out of camp each day, never to be seen again. After liberation I found out that these groups were taken to the nearest forest, surrounded by S.S. soldiers and killed with machine-guns. The primary candidates for these groups were the prisoners wearing the yellow triangle. I was also selected in such a group and was on my way, leaving the camp, when a senior member of the resistance recognized me and dragged me from the line and told me to hide in the children’s barracks. Here many were hiding, among them some men from the resistance who changed my yellow triangle to a red one with "J" for "Jugoslav." Many Jews were saved this way. Over 50,000 were executed in the last days and only 20,000 were alive upon liberation.

April 11, 1945, mid-morning, the resistance with arms in hand attacked the remaining few hundred German guards. At noon a voice came on the loudspeaker and announced: "We are free!" Many S.S. officers were caught by the prisoners, some were executed, the rest were kept for the American authorities to deal with. At four o’clock in the afternoon the first American tanks entered the camp. We were crying from happiness. Some broke through the barbed wire and were looking for potatoes in the fields. My thoughts were set on looking for food not so much on revenge. For the first few days the prisoners were free to leave the camp and wander about. They roamed through the Nazi officers’ family villas, breaking up the furniture, paintings, valuables. They also beat up and killed some people from the surrounding population for living well so close to us, yet so indifferent to our miserable existence. A large group of Russian army prisoners went to Weimar, a nearby city, where they broke into an alcohol depot, a few hundred died from alcohol poisoning in the next days. After three days the American command introduced some rules, the prisoners needed permission to leave camp and had to surrender their arms. In the liberating American army most were black and many cried seeing us, nothing but bones and skin, they gave us chocolate bars and chewing-gum. The reporters came taking pictures and reporting to the world what was found in the liberated camps. A few days later we were all present on the Appell-Platz when Eisenhower gave us a speech. In the administration barracks I found my "Häftling" card, I have it still. Once order was established the most important task was to help the sick. A barracks was transformed into a hospital, we received medicine from the Americans and plenty of rich foods. Nevertheless, many perished in the dysentery epidemic. For many death was precipitated by not being able to control their food intake, as it was plentiful. Later I found out that my father died after he was liberated under the same conditions in Kaufering where he was together with his townsfolk. I always had a deep regret for leaving my father in Auschwitz, but at all times hoped we’d be together again.

With two resistance members, we were assigned to be in charge of the food storage depot, mostly canned food. We ate eggs, sardines, sausages, candies. A month later, from all the good food, we got strong enough to play soccer. The American command forced the mayor of Weimar to gather all the populations of the city and bring them in groups inside the camp to see for themselves the barracks, the sick, the torture rooms, the crematorium. Many Germans who came to see how we were living so near to them, were crying and got sick. In their defence they claimed not to know what was happening inside the camp. Very impressive was the exhibition organized in the barracks, displaying prisoners’ clothes, shoes, eating tools, but especially the lamp shades and book covers made of human skin. The German S.S. camp commander’s wife, Ilse Koch’s hobby was to find nice tattoos on prisoners’ bodies, then at her order they were killed by injection and their tattooed skin used for decorating objects, later found in her villa. During May and June we remained in camp to get stronger, meanwhile groups were organized for Jews to go to Israel, France or enroll in the American army. I was in a group, mostly from Transylvania, who were planning to return home, now Rumania. We didn’t know anything about our families from which we were separated in Auschwitz, we wanted to know who survived deportation. In July I joined a group returning home, American trucks transported us to Prague from where we continued by train. During our trip, some Russian soldiers returning from the front tried to rob us and rape the young women with us. We got in touch with their commanding officer who stopped them. These young women came to Buchenwald after liberation from the other women’s camps. The train stopped in Czechoslovakia when we caught a strange-looking civilian hiding behind cars, we thought him to be a deserting S.S., we checked his armpit but he didn’t have the S.S. tattoo. He claimed to be a Jew, a Polish refugee. We undressed him and seeing that he was circumcised, let him go. After more than two weeks of travelling through bombed-out cities and many daily stops we arrived to Cluj-Rumania.

V. LIFE IN RUMANIA UNDER COMMUNIST GUIDANCE

 

In Cluj we were received by the Jewish Organization, they arranged us in the community homes, they provided us with everything we needed. Here I found out that my older sister Manci, from whom I was separated in Auschwitz, is back alive, but sick, staying at my younger sister Gizi in Brasov, she with her husband they escaped from deportation.

Couple of days later, by train I left for Brasov, on my way, I got off in Gheorgheni, where I heard from the returned hometown Jews, how my mother was taken to the crematorium and how my father died after liberation.

Arriving in Brasov, the two of my sisters, my brother-in-law, they received me by crying from happiness, I never forgot the emotion I felt at that encounter. Manci was recovering after a grave sickness, they dressed me up and provided me with the best food available.

The weeks passed and I didn’t know how to start my new life. Manci and me, we decided to go back to Gheorgheni. There we moved to the same apartment the one we had with our parents. With the money from my brother-in-law we bought some furniture and we were living on the help we got from the American Jewish Organization. My best fried Bela, with whom we had been together arrested by Hungarian gendarmes, became assistant-chief of the new police and the local leader of the Labour Party was Gusti, whose brother was my connection with the illegal movement. They enrolled me in the Party, that was the fall of 1945.

I tried to get a job in wood processing profession as my father had, but I didn’t see any future in that, and on my brother-in-law’s insistence, who guided my life at that time, in the spring of 1946 I moved to Cluj to continue my interrupted studies. There I was living with my cousins, two girls and one boy, in a small room; the three were sleeping in a double bed, me on a couch, we didn’t have place to move around; there was a stove in the corner, the latrine in the courtyard.

The Jewish youth from Cluj, without parents and family, by the direction of the Jewish community, they formed the Organization of Democratic Youth Jews (D. Zs. I. Sz.). There we met together, we had cultural arrangements, dance, sport, for which I had been the responsible. The girls lived in a common-home. I had Ruth as my girlfriend, a couple of years later she left with her brother to Israel.

My cousin Eugen, me and the third Paul, we had been the inseparable trio; all of us in fall of 1946 we succeeded to enter the sub-engineer college. We went all over together, we learned in common, so after three years when we got our diplomas, all three of us got a job at "Dermata"-Cluj, the biggest leather and shoe factory in the country, with over 5,000 employees.

One day, my brother-in-law called me from Bucharest, he told me he changed my name from Smil to Savin, as businessman he was familiar in the Ministry. I asked him from where he took the name, he told me from the phone book, it sounds better, that not everybody has to know by my name that I am a Jew; unfortunately based on past experience, it stuck to us, to not display, if not necessary our Jewish origin.

Later I met Eva in D .Zs. I. Sz., I was seven years older, she clung to me, she persuaded me to move to her parents’ apartment. During the war she and her parents were hiding in Budapest. After I moved in their bigger apartment, it developed a connection between us, we married in 1948. She wanted to be an actress, she had a tendency for that profession. We had our separate room, with her parents access through ours to a common bath and kitchen. At that time the most critical problem was to have an apartment, families were living together, grandparents, parents, children, sometimes 10 persons in the same room.

On August 10, 1950, was born our son George, mostly Eva’s mother was taking care of him, she was busy with her artistic life, and me after six working days at nights I had to participate in meetings, Sundays at volunteer works, hardly I had time to care and enjoy my son. It didn’t take more than seven years and our marriage broke off; for Eva the life of actress was important, she agreed that the child would remain with me, she knew that the child anyhow will stay at her mother’s house, who took care of him. I didn’t have a chance to take my own apartment and Eva felt, with me, the child will have more security.

That is how it went for a couple of years, every early morning I left by bicycle for work, after five years of factory experience I presented for examination at the Politechnical Institut-Cluj where I obtained the diploma for mechanical engineer. Shortly after that I was advanced at my work to be chief of the Technical Department with over 500 employees under my control.

As an oppositionist, in the Party my past activity was recognized , but still I wasn’t a trustworthy element, first of all because I was not from a worker or peasant origin, my parents were acknowledged to be of middle class, but especially since I never stopped my connection with my younger sister living in Canada, with whom I had a systematic correspondence. She with her family emigrated to Israel in the year 1951, from where a couple of years later to Canada, the country from which I heard in Auschwitz as the "Canadians." In the Party, they often were checking on me, as what connection I had with the Americans in Buchenwald and also with my sister in Canada.

My sister and brother-in-law from Canada, they sent us parcels of clothes and food to me and my elder sister Manci, she was living with her son in the same city, Cluj, as me. Our first encounter with Gizi we had in 1960 in Budapest, she came there from Canada, she paid our expenses, to my and Manci’s family, it was an emotional meeting for each, after many years away in two different worlds.

My son started school, but the lack of control by parents attested the results, there were problems with his studies, his grandmother was complaining that she can not discipline him, meantime grandfather left the family and moved out to Bucharest with another woman. All this that happened around the child, left marks in his childhood. Regarding religion, that did not exist, his grandmother she was a Christian, not religious, my son he wasn’t circumcised, he started to feel that his father is a Jew, later when the anti-Semitic movements opened up.

Meantime, I was introduced to a single Jewish lady, she had her own apartment, we married and I moved to her, my son remained with his grandmother. Every day after work I went by bicycle to see my son, he was expecting me at their house-gate, his grandmother was complaining systematically that she cannot handle him, I checked on his lessons from the school. I got home always, late at night to my new wife. That situation did not last too long, after three months of marriage when we had again a discussion that for me my son means more than she, I took and packed my two suitcases and moved back to my son, where his grandmother took me in without a word. After two years, till she realized no hope for me to go back to her, she gave her consent for a divorce.

A couple of years later, I met my present wife Erica, she was a single Rumanian Christian lady, she understood how strong are my feelings toward my only son, she endeavored to accept that situation, although the mother of my son tried to raise problems between us. Finally in 1960 I succeeded to obtain an apartment through the Company where I was working, we moved in with Erica and married in June 1961, since then we are together.

Again came a lot of complaints from my son’s grandmother, she asked me to take him with me, but hardly was formed an adequate connection between my third wife and my son, while between me and them, I tried to create for both of them an acceptable compromise.

My sister and her husband came from Canada to visit us, they brought me as gift a small car, Opel Kadet, made in Germany, it was a novelty at that time for someone to own a car from Western countries, everybody envied me, my son who sometimes drove the car taking with him his friends, was highly appreciated.

I was visiting daily my other sister who was living in the same city as me, she had a son, Laci, three years older than mine, it was very difficult for her to raise him up alone, her husband left her and she was very sick in depression, very often was interned for electric-shock treatments in hospital.

As a member of the Party, my activity consisted as a propagandist to instruct some groups teaching different political materials, but later all this became so boring, people got tired of slogans and participated in this meeting only because they were afraid to lose their job.

In 1967 after many requests, I succeeded to obtain from the local police headquarters the approval for a passport, to go to visit my sister in Montreal, on the occasion of Expo ‘67. First time in my life in a Western country, I spent three months away, I visited the Expo almost daily, I took a trip to Niagara Falls, I got the visa from U.S.A. consulate to visit my only existing uncle in New York, who left Rumania in the year 1928.

I collected in myself everything I saw, comparing with our life back in our country, my sister’s friends show me all over, I get acquainted with my sister’s children, a boy and a girl, about same ages as my son. Everybody was telling me to remain in Canada, but I could not leave my family to themselves. On my return, I stopped to see Paris, Rome, something to catch from the world, I brought back lots of magazines which were given from hand to hand to my friends, they only in secrecy dared to speak about the life in Western countries.

Especially among the young people as my son, it was very strong the wish to escape in West, many were ambitious to become top in sports--as my son in speed-skating--to have a chance to participate in international competitions and on that occasion to remain in Western countries.

I had problems with my son in his studies, I put him into the factory where I was employed to learn a profession, as mechanic, I placed him next to the best skilled workers, but he didn’t have the patience to stay too long.

After I returned back from my Canadian tour, in Rumania, the Ceausescu tendency got stronger, only Rumanians and of his group, trustworthy elements, could reach the important posts. The director-general of the company I worked for, was appointed a Rumanian chemical engineer, whose brother-in-law in past was member of the Iron-Guard. He became member of the Party and had big influence all over. Me as an illegalist was against him to be accepted by the Party, therefore like my boss, he strongly oppressed me, whenever he had a chance he pushed me down, made my life miserable. I could not resist and resigned as department manager, he replaced me with younger engineers with less experience and put me under their supervision.

 

VI. ESCAPE--VIENNA

 

Following 1968, when the Soviet Army marched into Czechoslovakia, friends of mine succeeded to escape through Czechoslovakia in Austria and from there in Canada. That happened to my friend Peter who arrived in Montreal, I was in contact with him through my sister and I found out the circumstances how he crossed the border in Bratislava for Austria.

In October, all three of us, my wife, my son and myself, separately we succeeded to obtain visas in our passports to live as tourists in Czechoslovakia, crossing Hungary. Next morning, we packed in my Opel Kadet car, some of better clothes, personal certificates, we didn’t have much hope if we will succeed, but you never know. Only to my nephew Laci, I told about our intention and asked him to keep in secrecy, I promised to send him a telegram if we get out, so he could inform his mother and my son’s mother about us.

Arriving in Budapest, I tried at the German Embassy for information, but there nobody wanted to talk to me, so we left next day for Czechoslovakia. Before crossing the border, we tried at the Hungary-Austria border, there the Hungarian custom-officer took our passport and stamped, to be known that we want to pass the border over there, then turned us back. They knew, that returned in Rumania when we had to deposit at the police our passports, they will know about our intention, therefore we never would have any other chance to get visa to leave Rumania for any foreign country.

We drove over to Czechoslovakia, at Bratislava I asked for information from the source my Canadian friend Peter recommended me, they told me, no reason to try, because the border to Austria is controlled by Russian soldiers. We left to Brno, Praga, we sold our Rumanian merchandises, we bought Czech articles, we had Czech money from the exchange when after one week, we started to return home.

Instead of the main road, we took some roads running along the Czech-Austrian border, we tried in two small border checkpoints but they didn’t let us go close to the border. Finally before to cross to Hungary, we had left the last border-station in Bratislava, here I didn’t care how would come out, I line up with my car at the border, it was a long line, a lot of Austrian and German cars. I was the only one with a license from the Eastern countries. It took hours till our car advanced to the checkpoint, a custom officer asked for our passports, he looked to us, "You Rumanians what the hell do you want," I stuttered something in German that we would like to go home through Austria, he went inside in an office with our passports. Meantime my wife and my son scolded me, "It will happen same as at the Hungarian border, another stamp on our passports," we were scared to death.

After 15 minutes, the officer came back, he asked if we have Czech money, my pockets were packed with them, he told us to spend at the close-by border-shop, he gave us back our passports and pointed us to the direction to Austria. We grabbed at the shop a bottle of liquor, a bar of salami, and fast drove to the Austrian border checkpoint where, without getting off, we showed our passport to the Austrian officer. He waved us to pass, as Rumanians didn’t need entrance visa to Austria.

I drove a couple of kilometers further, then I stopped at the side of the road, we got off and lay down on the grass, we could not believe that we were in Austrian territory. What happened, we presumed, the Czech custom-officer who let us pass, he sympathized with us as Rumanians because Rumania was the only Eastern country who was against the Russians when in 1968 the Soviet Army took over Czechoslovakia, he knew we wanted to flee and he let us cross over.

We drove to Vienna, it was almost dark at night, we had an address of a friend given to me by my Canadian sister, as in case we ever arrive in Vienna they would help us to get in touch with her. It was difficult but we found the address, we told them who we are, they called immediately Montreal, when I told my sister we are in Vienna she was crying from happiness. My brother-in-law asked the Viennese friends to help us, to give money and guidance for start. We rented a furnished room from a nice Austrian family, it had a double bed, they put in another bed for my son. There we were staying for five months, till we left for Canada.

We reported to the H.I.A.S., they prepared our request to the Canadian Embassy for emigration, my brother-in-law was our sponsor. Meantime the H.I.A.S. helped us with money, medical expenses, clothes and they sent us to Berlitz school to take the English language courses. We lived close to a big food market, we bought the cheapest of everything, my wife cooked for us, the landlady let my wife to use the kitchen. Several times we were called for information to the Canadian Embassy, for medical examination, we didn’t know when and how long it takes to get the approval. We had a chance to get a job outside of Vienna to keep up a boarding-house, but we were afraid to leave the city, to be there in case our Canadian entry papers arrive.

I used my Opel Kadet car for three months more, then I sent it with a gift certificate to my nephew Laci in Cluj, for whom it was useful for a couple of more years.

In Cluj it had a big echo my escape, as an illegalist as me I deserted the Party, but my closest friends congratulated me that I took this important step in my life. I heard from them, that in a meeting on my escape I was excluded from the Party.

On our stay in Vienna a company from Germany wanted to hire me as engineer with experience in fabrication of shoe machinery. Everybody was telling me, that living in Germany I would have better chances to receive the recompense for deportation, but my dreams were about Canada, known to me as the best country in the world, beside that it was the country where one of my sisters already was living.

Regarding my dreams, when I been in camps, all my best dreams were about food and to be free, as after liberation living in Rumania, my dreams were to escape and to get to Canada. I had bad dreams too, still I have today too, as been in camp surrounded by barbed wire and S.S. officers.

During our stay in Vienna, my brother-in-law from Montreal visited us, he gave us money and helpful advice.

 

VII. NEW LIFE--CANADA

 

On April 7, 1970 we arrived in Montreal by Air Canada--the H.I.A.S. paid our trip--as "landed immigrants." We had a huge reception by my sister and her family and many friends. For one month we rented a furnished apartment, after then a 4 1/2 apartment, where my son had his own separate room.

After three weeks, I succeeded to get a job in a big wire and nail manufacturing company, whose owner was of Rumania origin, he knew the company in Cluj where I worked for over 20 years, and he needed a mechanical engineer.

At that time I was already 47 years old, at the beginning I swallowed-down a lot of bitterness, especially with no Canadian experience, my manager put me in night shift. I started as designer, I was the only engineer, the French foremen were from the local small town, 50 km from Montreal. They had many years’ experience on this profession, but less school education than I had, they did everything to show me--a new engineer--their professional superiority over me. It took me many years till I succeeded to be recognized professionally. After two years’ experience, I was accepted in the Order of Engineers of Quebec. I spent over 20 years as employee of this company.

My brother-in-law from Montreal, took care as with money to get out from Rumania, my nephew Laci and his newly married wife, later his mother--my oldest sister--and similarly many more members of his family. Today almost everybody from our family is out from Rumania, here in Canada, only my wife’s brother and his family still lives over there, he used to come often to visit us, also my wife goes every second year to visit him. Me I went back after 10 years, then again after 24 since I left the country. On the second time, in 1993 I met a lot of my old friends, especially the ones who were together in camps. They used to send me every year, on April 11, a greeting post-card from their reunion of the anniversary of the liberation of Buchenwald.

It was a big event for me, when I took part at the 50th anniversary of the liberation of Buchenwald Concentration Camp in Germany, it was emotional the memories walking through the main gait, to the crematorium, between the demolished barracks, the museum. It was a touchy meeting on the "Appell-Platz." I met many friends, whom I didn’t see for 50 years. At the commemoration were present not only former "Häftlings" but some of the liberators too, from the American army.

During my time in Canada, when I still was working, we spent our vacation with my wife travelling all over the world, what we didn’t have a chance to do living in Rumania. First trip we took in Israel, there I had living seven of my cousins. We travelled by car in Europe, we took trips in South America, Caribbean Islands, Hawaii, California, we spent our saved money to see the world.

We are still living in a rented apartment, we bought a small cottage in Laurentien, where we used to spend our weekends. I love to work on do-it-yourself jobs, at the cottage the basement is transformed as my working-shop, over there, around the house between the trees, I am busy all the time, at nights I am dead tired working non-stop.
At the age of 68 years old, I retired from the Company, since then I enjoy the golden age life. I play a lot of tennis, I love reading books and magazines, I watch T.V., sometimes we play cards with friends. I am healthy, since I retired--from our pension and supplement from the money we saved in many working years--every winter we drive by car to Florida, where we stay 3 1/2 months in a rented apartment. There we have many friends, I play tennis daily, we go swimming, that how we live on our old age till we can.

My Canadian sister and her husband died a couple of years back.

My older sister, the one who had been in Auschwitz and other camps, she is 83 years old, she was sick for many years in depression, now she lives in a foster home, she is O.K., she wrote a memoir about her experience in deportation.

My son, he was married, but because of the financial problems, they divorced, no children, he has his own rented apartment, for a couple of years he has no job, me and him we have a tight relationship.

I am not involved in any politics, I had a good relation with many French employees working together, I know five languages. If I have problems, at my age of 72 years old, I never forget how lucky I am as survived the camps, that I am here in Canada, so my dreams became reality and here I can spend the best of my old age.

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