Holocaust Forgotten - Five Million Non-Jewish Victims

by Terese Pencak Schwartz

  I spent about a week at Gross-Rosen before I was transferred, along with several others, to Aslau K.Z. There was a military airport nearby and we were given jobs in one of the hangars. Every morning before work, we were ordered to line up to be counted. This usually took a long time because we had to remain standing until everyone was accounted for.

  We were hungry and tired and very weak almost the entire time. It was an enormous chore just to keep moving until the end of the day. In the evening we lined up to be counted again. Any person accused of breaking any work rules was called forward and punished. Either they were hit in the face, given a beating or they were ordered to run until they fell from exhaustion. This last form of punishment was called "sport" and was a form of entertainment for the SS men.

  One morning two men were missing. We were ordered to remain standing until the two were found. We stood for six hours. Finally the SS men with dogs found the escapees. They were transferred to the main camp, probably to the Punishment Commando. They were never seen again.

  Another time, a man was discovered in a tunnel that had been dug under the barbed wire fence. The entire camp was lined up to witness his punishment. He was given 100 lashes. After 30 lashes he lost consciousness and fell to the ground. The SS men threw water on him and a kapo named Eric gave him 70 more lashes. The guy never screamed or cried out. It was terrifying to watch. Unbelievably, this man survived this horrendous beating. Some months later he showed us his wounds on his buttocks. There was no skin. The flesh was red. There were two open wounds about the size of a half-dollar where the bones were visible. Red and blue veins branched out form the center of the wound.

  Sunday was a day of rest from our work. On some Sundays, the entire barracks was ordered to take a bath. Buckets of water were heated up on a wood burning stove. The heated water was poured into a large tub. The first one to bathe was the leader of the barracks. Next, the members of his team took their turn in the bath. Finally, all 300 of us were ordered to bathe in the same water. I tried to keep my head above the polluted water, but the guards physically shoved my head under. I remember shutting my eyes, and mouth and trying to hold my nose so none of the putrid water would seep inside.

  One day while standing in line, I noticed a man collapse some distance away from me but in the same line. He fell against the man next to him knocking him over. We were so weak that when this man fell, one by one, like dominos, the entire line of men began falling down. I saw what has happening and I tried to step out of the way, but I was so weak that I could not move fast enough and I too went down. The SS men and the kapos found this very amusing.

  In November 1944, a new SS officer arrived. We called him "Croat". He decided to double our shift, which created a 16-hour workday. In the morning we received a cup of Erzart coffee that was impossible to drink. Most of us used it as warm water to wash our hands and faces. Later in the day we would get one liter of watery green vegetable soup and a small piece of black bread. The soup tasted terrible, but we ate because we were starving.

  Because it was so late when we returned to our barracks at the end of the workday, our "dinner" would be set aside for us outside in metal bowls. During the winter, the top layer of the soup would freeze and we would have to break the ice to eat it. We went straight to bed after eating because we were exhausted. My legs ached so much from all the walking, standing and working, that I lost all feeling in my feet.

  Meals That Dogs Would Refuse

  Sometime after Christmas 1944, we were evacuated from Aslau. We were ordered to load about ten farm wagons with supplies. We then pushed and steered the wagons across the countryside on a journey that took several days. Anyone who was unable to walk or who collapsed from exhaustion was shot and killed on the spot.

  One night two prisoners escaped. The commandant was so angry that he punished all of us by asking five men standing next to me to step out of line and move behind a building. Then we listened while he shot them with his gun. To this day I do not understand how I escaped not being chosen that night. We arrived in Nordhausen K.Z. in March 1943 where we stayed for a few days only. Then we marched to Dora.

  Hospital without Medical Supplies

  It was about this time that I got sick. A gland in my neck was so swollen that it locked my jaw and my teeth were clenched tight. My commander noticed my condition and sent me to the hospital. It was called a hospital but hardly anyone left this building alive. There were no medical supplies - just very sick and dying people. One man had gangrene in his arm. Three times they amputated parts of his arm without anesthesia. He finally died.

  There were about 600 patients in the hospital when I arrived. In a few weeks four hundred of these were dead and any patient well enough to walk was sent back to work.

  Liberty at Last

  One morning we looked out the window and noticed that all the SS guards were gone. The Wermacht had replaced them. A few days later, General Patton's Army arrived at the camp. I remember the first Allied soldier I saw was an African-American smiling and throwing chocolate candy bars and Camel cigarettes to us through the window. We were liberated.

  Chapter 6 - American Citizen and Holocaust Survivor

  By: Susan Ost-Perrone

  I have never written about this subject before. I have hardly even talked about it. I guess I never felt that we, non-Jews, also "owned" the tragedies of the Holocaust. The Internet site (www.holocaustforgotten.com) enlightened me to realize that it wasn't just Jews that were treated horribly. Until I visited this site, I had always thought that it was just a miserable mistake that my family got caught up in an atrocity that was happening to the Jews.

  My father, until I asked him, never talked about how his family was torn apart by the Holocaust in Poland. I only knew bits and pieces of stories I had heard when my parents talked quietly. After visiting this site on the non-Jewish victims and survivors, I was inspired to talk to my father and ask him more specific questions.

  My father, George T. Ost, (formerly Ostrowski) was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin in 1918, just after his parents emigrated from Poland. George was the youngest of seven children. Sometime soon after George was born, his mother returned to Poland with the children. His father continued to live in the United States to support the family. George and his brother, Edward were U.S. Citizens, but the rest of the family members were Polish Citizens. All the children were educated and raised as Catholics in Gdynia, Poland.

  Living in Poland when Germany invaded in 1939, George was drafted into the Polish Army although he was an American citizen. Being college-educated, the Polish army offered him immediate officership. A few weeks later his entire troop was captured by the Nazi's. George was beat unconscious with a rifle butt. His teeth were knocked out. He awoke on a truck, bleeding and bruised, thinking he was headed for the forest to be executed. Instead, he and 32 other Polish soldiers were taken to a nearby concentration camp. When the Germans learned he was a Lieutenant he was treated a little better, but they did not believe he was a U.S. Citizen.

  When George's mother learned of his capture, she immediately began searching for him. Mrs. Ostrowski found her youngest son in a concentration camp, 14 miles from Gdynia. She talked to the Nazi officers and was able to convince them that he was an American citizen. He was released along with four other young men from his troop six weeks before the United States' involvement in the war. George was lucky. Unfortunately not everyone is his family was so lucky.

  A few weeks later, George and his brother, Edward, who had just returned from fighting in the Polish Army at the Russian border, were walking into town to register Edward's return to Gdynia. The Nazis required all Polish citizens to be registered. George and the other members of his family had already registered. While waiting in the long slow-moving line with Edward, George decided to leave to buy some cigarettes. Unfortunately, when he returned, the entire line of people, along with his brother was gone. No one knows exactly what happened.

  Edward was 24 years old. They never saw him a
live again. In 1944 or 1945, George's two sisters, Sophia and Hatti, identified Edward's' remains in a mass grave in the woods not far from Gdynia. He was traced by tattooed numbers.

  After the United States became involved in the war it was necessary for George to leave Poland. He headed for Marseilles, France where he embarked on a boat to the United States. George tried to get settled in the U.S. but was soon drafted into the United States Army. He was part of the Army Air Corp., which later was to become the Air Force. George was almost court-martialed for being a spy because he spoke fluent German. After that was straightened out, the Army sent George back to Europe to fight the Germans.

  Fortunately, he was not captured this time and returned home after the war to marry and start a family. George Ost passed away in March 2004 surrounded by his family. He was very touched to think that anybody cared about his story.

  Chapter 7 - Kidnapped and Deported

  By: Joseph S. Wardzala

  More than one million Poles were deported to forced labor camps in Nazi Germany. There are no books, nor data showing the number of people who were murdered in those camps. Those who survived remember how cruelly they were treated. I am one of them. I have lost my young years and health over there.

  When Germany started the war, they mobilized every young German into the Nazi armed forces. There was a shortage of laborers at home. At first, they appealed to Poles to go and work in Germany. Some Poles went, since they had no means to survive in Occupied Poland. Later, the Germans applied forced deportation for work. They kidnapped young men and women in the street, in the marketplace, and in front of churches on Sundays. Special camps were set up for Poles, separate ones for men and others for women.

  I was kidnapped on a street in Tarnow in April 1941, pushed into a goods wagon and transported to Germany. Three days later, the train stopped in Braunschwieg. We were told to leave the wagon. Here we were met by other Germans who were choosing people for work they needed done.

  I was assigned to work for a firm that was building underground shelters for Germans in the neighborhood of Wattenstadt, where a huge Herman Goering factory was located. The work was exhausting, 10 hours a day; six days a week, often even on Sundays. Older people were dying of exhaustion. The camp was surrounded with barbed wire. It was administered by Germans. Every morning we were divided into groups and led to work under strict supervision. After work, a bowl of soup and microscopic cube of margarine and bread was given. This was the only meal for the day. We felt hunger all day long. Every morning, we were so exhausted that we could hardly move. A brown leather whip was used to make people work faster.

  We were liberated by the American Army in April 1945. Displaced Person Camps were created and organized. Now, children were able to begin their education in schools in the camps. On Sundays we were finally able to attend the Holy Mass. People were given jobs. We lived in the same barracks as during the war. Some people lived in the previously military buildings. I taught school in a D.P. camp, organized scouting, helped the priest in the chapel, and worked in the office of the Polish Displaced Persons Camp.

  I arrived in the United States in 1950, and settled in Derby, Connecticut. Since 1966, I have been organizing exhibits and showing films, spreading information about Polish history and culture. In 1990, thanks to the Kosciuszko Foundation of New York, I was invited by the Holocaust Committee to Washington, D.C. to describe my experience in the Nazi camp. The interview was recorded and may be seen on video in the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C.

  I gave my documents showing my work as a forced laborer in Nazi Germany: my identity card, food stamps (which showed my number and date with large "P" in the background). A part of the stamp was to be turned the kitchen to obtain a meal. Every Pole had to have the letter "P" sown on clothing. It was forbidden for Poles to ride in busses, trains, to enter a restaurant or theater. My letter "P" can be seen in the Holocaust Museum.

  Chapter 8 - French Survivor of Nordhuesen

  By: Michel Depierre and Peter Branton

  I was born July 22, 1926 (72 years old when I wrote this) at Villers-Vermont (Oise) France. I was the oldest son of 10 children. Lived the first 10 years on farms at villers-Vermont until 8 years old then at St Samson La Poterie until 10 years old with my grandmothers and parents. Then I family moved to Noyon where I still reside. From 1936 to 1940 attended primary school in Noyon and then started working to help out the family. From 1940 to 1944 worked in a factory.

  Joined the Resistance Movement to Fight the Germans

  On June 6, 1944 (D-Day), I joined, in the forest near Noyon, the "Maquis des Usages" (resistance movement) to fight the Germans. I recycled weapons, grenades, and guns. Reception of British parachutes. Also I gave aid to British and American Aviators that were shot down.

  On June 23, 1944 "Le Maquis" (The resistant team) was attacked by the Germans. Two resistance fighters were killed but we killed 6 German soldiers. The fight was tough. With our machine guns (British machine guns called STEN) we won over the 40 German soldiers, when there were only twelve of us. Two of us were only 17 years old. We were in a hunting chalet surrounded by the Germans that we had to repel to escape.

  We took the opportunity, after they retreated in a truck, to escape and walk 15 km in the forest. The next day the Germans came back and bombed the chalet. The Gestapo organized a manhunt, so we took refuge in huge underground caves.

  Arrested

  On returning to Noyon to inform my family, the Gestapo arrested me on July 20th, 1944. They took me to the Prison of Compiegne where I was questioned and tortured. On August 16th, 1944 we were moved to the camp of Royallieu near Compiegne, where other resistance fighters were gathered from all over France. 55,000 resistance fighters left Compiegne during the war for concentration camps in Germany.

  The next day August 17th, 1944, we are locked in animal wagons (80-90 persons per wagon) in Compiegne forest. Our destination is the concentration camp of Buchenwald where we arrived 92 hours later, completely dehydrated. It was during August in an incredible heat, we received only a 1/4 liter of water during the trip. People were dying, others were losing their mind. Some of them were leeching the water condensation on the steel at night. For the toilette facility only a metallic bucket in the middle of the wagon with an unbearable odor, was available.

  We arrived at Buchenwald exhausted on August 21st, 1944. Strong people became, in 92 hours, very old. We slept for three weeks outside on the garbage heap of the" big Camp". We were shaved from head to toe and given striped uniforms.

  300 Prisoners were Killed

  August 23rd, 1944 the camp of Buchenwald was bombed by the Allies. The factory near the camp and 58 barracks (Headquarters) were destroyed. Not too much damage in the camp but three hundred prisoners (deportees) were killed.

  Towards September 10th, 1944 I was sent via "Transport Train" towards the Dutch border. We crossed Cologne (Koln), went down the Rhine towards Koblenz. The Allies are progressing so fast that we could not leave the wagons and the train was forced to return to Buchenwald. The Germans only took food for the one way trip so, on the way back we traveled three days without anything to eat.

  Two days later I got really depressed when I learned that I'm leaving For the Camp of Dora (Nordhausen) to work in the underground Factory of the 'Mittelbau where we built the VI and V2 rockets. Only dead comes back from Dora in Wagons and trucks to be burned in the crematorium of Buchenwald.

  A Cruel Hell

  From September 15th 1944 to the beginning of April 1945 I was in the cruelest Hell. Twelve hours per day or night (eighteen hours when we rotate team) we must carry on our back extremely heavy equipment in and out of the tunnel With almost nothing in our stomach, under the rain, snow, mud, in extremely cold weather, clothed in a poor outfit, wood clogs with fabric on top which get hooked in everything and under the beatings of the "55" and "Kapos" (Often ex criminals just out of jail).

  I touch the bottom of misery and mental distress. Although, I had a strong constitutio
n from a very athletic life, my health declined rapidly. I was admitted at the "Revier" (nursery) toward March 15th 1945 for complication to a wound received in the temple by a kapos. From then on, my health became worse with numerous diseases one after the other: Pleuresie, Lymphangite, dysentrie, etc... (I don't know the English translation of those diseases).

  April 3rd and 6th evacuation of Camp Dora. People in charge of the "Revier" wanted to evacuate us right away; they said that everything will be destroyed with flame throwers. With my extreme weakness I tried to go down on the Appel Plaza. But when I see the poor people in front of me being beat with tool handles, I hide behind a barracks and go back in the block where the nurse immediately sent me back out. So, I went around the Block and pushed a window that thank God opened. I'm in an empty room and my Heart is beating really fast. I collapse and lose consciousness.

  Prisoners Burned to Death

  When I finally regained consciousness I saw the town of Nordhausen burning about 7 km away. It was only when I came back to France that I learned that the "SS" put thousand of prisoners (Deportees) incapable of working in their barracks. The allies thought they were bombing a military installation. Around 1500 prisoners (Deportees) were killed.

  On the 7th or 8th of April, the "SS" abandoned Dora except for a few dying prisoners (Deportees) like me. The camp is evacuated. We stayed a few days in this "no man's land". On April 11th, 1945 The American Army investigated the tunnel and the Camp of Dora. Shocked, they discovered about a hundred men dying in the Revier (nursery). The first military man that I saw was a Canadian Captain who spoke French. They distributed some food. It was so good, since we were dying of hunger for the last nine months. Only skin was left on our bones.