The German soldiers and the SS men were driving the crowd toward this open field where we could see a few Jewish men digging a large ditch. It started to rain, and everyone was running to keep ahead of the German soldiers and their dogs. Everyone seemed to know that we were going to be executed but did not dare to stop or try to escape. When we got to the ditch, the Germans made the crowd separate and line up in front of this large ditch that had been dug by the Jewish men. The little boy grabbed me and pulled me in front of him. His mother was clinging to his skinny little shoulders as they tried to stay together. The Germans started at the other end of the large ditch and made the men who had dug the ditch strip off all their clothing and stand there naked. All that I could think of was, “How did I end up here?” I was thinking of Mama back at the railcar, knowing that she was frantically looking for me.
Then the Germans began to shoot those poor people—one by one in the back of their heads, and they just toppled over into the ditch. They moved down the line of Jews, shooting them with their pistols—the shots sounded more like large firecrackers than guns. However, everyone knew what was coming—and as the Germans were three people away from this little boy and his mother and me, he grabbed me and gave me a heavy push into the ditch, which was now a muddy mess, a mix of mud and the blood of those who were being executed.
I landed facedown in this mess, with my head, face, and body covered in this bloody mud. It seemed like just a moment, but I heard this little boy’s mother scream, “Nathan!” as the Germans shot both of them. Nathan’s body landed on top of me and he did not move—his little body did not have much weight, so I lay there very still. I was afraid to move—even a little finger. I had turned my head so I could breathe before Nathan landed on top of me, and I lay there for what seemed to be an eternity before I opened my eyes after the shooting stopped and the German soldiers had moved away from the ditch.
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Nathan’s body lying on top of me, still with the little piece of bread clutched in his little hand. I knew that Nathan and his mother were dead, and I was not sure if I was dead or alive. I could not feel any pain, but as I lay there, I realized that Nathan had saved my life by pushing me into the ditch just before the Germans shot. By doing this, he had saved my life before his frail little body fell on top of me and covered my body.
I continued to lie there for a long time, listening to every little noise. I could hear some talking not too far away; it sounded like a bunch of drunken men singing and cursing. It was dark, and I had heard about the reputation of the Germans to execute people just at dusk. However, with the rain and the heavy clouds, I could not tell what time it really was. I continued to lie there until I decided that I must get out of the ditch somehow and get back to Mama. I prayed that she was still there. I decided to move my fingers to see if there was anyone watching the ditch.
After a few minutes, all was still quiet, and I started to crawl to a place where I thought I could climb out of the ditch. But whenever I tried to climb up the ditch bank, I would slide backward into the blood and the mud. I continued to try to find a way out of the ditch—over and over again, I would slide backward. My face and body were covered with this heavy mud, and my head felt like a heavy ball. I finally found a spot where a small bush was hanging over the ditch. I grabbed a limb of the bush, but the limb was covered with sharp thorns. I broke the thorns off one by one until I could grab the limb and climb out of the ditch. I cleaned my eyes of the mud, but I heard some talking far away. I found a puddle of rainwater and tried to clean up as much as possible. I continued to hear the talking and decided to hide behind some bushes in case the Germans decided to return to the ditch.
By then it was nearing dawn—I could see the horizon begin to lighten up a little bit. When it became light enough, I started to walk to a wooded area near the field, thinking that it would be safer walking through the woods rather than across the field. I knew I had to walk back in the direction that the Germans had [taken] us. As I was walking through the woods, I saw two German soldiers standing there talking to each other, and again, I didn’t know whether to hide or to just keep walking. The soldiers saw me, and one of them came over and asked me what I was doing out in the woods at that time of the night, and I told him that I was lost from my mother and was trying to find her and get back to her. He told me to continue going toward the buildings way up ahead—he did not try to stop me, so I continued to walk in that direction.
When I got closer to the fenced area, I saw Mama standing by the fence looking toward me, but the next problem was for me to find a way to get inside the fence where Mama was. There were two SS men there. I was afraid that if they saw me they would shoot me or sic the dogs on me, so I decided to squat down by the fence and wait until I could slip through the gate. The SS men opened the gate to let the dogs out. Their attention was drawn away from my direction, and I slipped through the gate and ran to where Mama was standing. I know that Mama and I were in shock. She grabbed me and held me tightly. We sat there on the ground, cold and shaking—not a word was spoken between us.
32: The End of the Line
When Mama and I got over the shock of my near-death experience, we fully realized that our lives were very much in danger. We would have to be extremely careful, and we would have to stay close to each other at all times. Finally, the Germans had put the train loaded with Eastern Europeans back together and continued the train on its way to Germany. We all knew that we were on the final leg of our journey from our homes and our families to work in the slave labor camps in Germany. The train was moving at a fast rate of speed, as if it were in a hurry to deliver us to our destiny in the labor camp.
When we reached the border between Poland and Germany, the train was stopped, and we were met by hundreds of Nazi SS men who were awaiting the train. The SS men ordered everyone to get off the train and to line up in columns of twos. They made us carry our luggage or whatever we had on the train, and Mama and I stayed together as the SS men started to march us across the border, where there were trucks loaded with barrels of soup.
Each of us was given a rusty-looking metal container that was filled with a brew that smelled like bad cabbage, with bits of carrots and maybe cabbage leaves in the soup. We were given a chunk of dark bread, and we were allowed to eat while sitting on the grass. After we had finished eating, the SS men ordered everyone back into the columns of twos, and we started marching.
Everyone was wondering where we would end up. After we marched for several hours, they let us stop and go into the bushes and then rest for a few minutes—then start marching again. This went on all afternoon, and my little feet were so very tired, and my legs felt like they were cramping up. All the women were so very tired and weak, but the Germans made us continue to move. My shoes were too small for me. Mama had cut out the toes of my shoes, but they were still uncomfortable.
At dusk, we reached a spot where the Germans told us that we would stop for the night and ordered everyone to gather in a huge group so they could guard us. We were all bone tired; we just huddled together in an attempt to stay warm, since it was the fall and the nights would get quite cold. I suppose that we all got some sleep by leaning against each other, and somehow we made it through the night. Early in the morning, before daybreak, we awoke to the sounds of motors from a bunch of trucks coming our way. We were loaded onto those trucks in groups until there was standing room only, and the trucks took off—each one loaded with as many people as it would hold. Mama and I held on to each other so we would not get separated, because no one knew where they were taking us.
Soon we reached a place in a field that was fenced in with a tall fence, and there were a few buildings located inside. Once there, they made us all unload from the trucks, and they ordered us to line up our luggage or suitcases next to a fence inside the compound.
* * *
LUGGAGE • Because these women were headed to a labor camp—not an extermination camp (a killing center), like t
he Jewish passengers—they were allowed to keep their luggage. In her transcript, Nonna did not always make the important distinction between the types of camps.
* * *
We were kept there for about ten days while the Germans deloused everyone. They shaved many of the women’s heads and made them shave under their arms and even their groin area. Then they came by with a bucket of liquid and painted this solution over our naked bodies with a paintbrush—then everyone was given a physical exam to check for any diseases.
The SS men were there with the dogs, guarding the barracks and the area inside and outside the fences. The barracks did not have any mattresses, and we were told that we were to sleep on a cot made out of boards. They told us not to leave the area of the barracks, and especially not to go near the tall outside fences, since these were electrically charged and we would be electrocuted if we touched them. They fed us soup and bread, but there was no work to be done, so we spent our days waiting for whatever was to come. We were all praying that we would not be sent to the concentration camps. They took away all our clothes and gave us a uniform made with stripes so that no one could possibly escape. The Germans gave everyone cloth badges to stitch on the outside of the uniforms. The people from Russia and the Ukraine were given badges that read OST, which means “east.” The Polish people were given badges that had a large P, which stood for “Polish.” They gave us a needle and thread and told us that the badges must be worn where they could be seen at all times.
So we waited for their next move and just spent our time thinking about what was in store for us. I was standing in the doorway of the barracks when my attention was drawn to a small boy who was reaching under the fence to pull up a rutabaga that was sticking up in the field outside the fence. This boy looked to be six or seven years old, but he was very thin, and even his neck was thin and long. I watched as he pulled the rutabaga under the fence, wiped the dirt off on his clothes, and took a bite out of it.
Just then, a Nazi soldier, who was fat and had a loud voice, came up and began to curse the little boy and called him a thief. The Nazi was carrying a large umbrella that had a curved handle, much like that of a walking cane, and the Nazi stuck out the curved handle and caught the little boy around his small neck with the handle. He began to swing the little boy around by his neck—first one way then the other way until the little boy’s feet were off the ground. The soldier was laughing and cursing, and continued to swing the little boy around and around. I saw what was happening and wanted to run over there and stop the soldier, but after my narrow escape with Nathan, I was afraid to interfere. I probably could not have done much, anyway. There were two more German soldiers that came over and ordered the soldier to stop swinging the little boy, and when he stopped swinging him, the boy just dropped to the ground. When the other soldier picked his little body up, his head was just hanging loosely, and I knew that the soldier had killed the little boy by breaking his neck.
Once again, that sick feeling came over me; this was another incident that I must carry the memories of for all my life. By this time, we didn’t know what to expect next. Every one of the prisoners was heartsick, but we were helpless to change anything. We were just hoping that we would not be the next victim.
33: Identification Patches
As soon as we arrived in the first labor camp in Kassel, Germany, we were given patches! We were given one dozen of the patches each, given out by nationality, with the Russians and Ukrainians getting the same patch—OST. We were also separated by nationality in the labor camps. The Jews were immediately put in the Yiddish camps, and the Russians and the Ukrainians were put together into East, or Russian, camps. The Jews were given patches that were in the design of the Star of David and had a blue outline with an orange center—with Yiddish in the center of the star. The Poles were issued a diamond-shaped patch that had a yellow center with the letter P in the center.
We were put behind bars in barracks that were surrounded by barbed-wire fences (some electrified) about nine to ten feet tall. The gates to the camps were guarded by SS men who had many dogs with them. There was no way possible to escape because we had to wear our patches, anyway. Every day we were marched to our places of work—some worked in factories, and some cleaned streets after the bombings. I guess the Poles had more privileges and choices than any of us. We were not allowed to be free on the streets, and of course, the stores were “off limits” to us and the Jews. Quite often, there were some prisoners who would dare to go into the stores without a patch, but when the SS caught them, the punishment was severe—being shipped to the concentration camps.
The Poles invented a kind of “black market” by trying to exchange or offer us their “P” patches—sometimes for money (but there was really no one who had money). However, they would barter for things like an umbrella or whatever we had to give up. If a prisoner had some extra bread or cheese, she might exchange it for the “P” patch. This practice lasted but a short time, because if a Jew would accept a Polish “P” patch so she could find a better place to hide from the SS men, she would be shot and killed. Sometimes, a Pole would tell the SS men that some Jew had accepted a “P” patch for a piece of jewelry or something. The SS men would take the Pole and the Jew into the field and shoot them both. The Poles soon stopped this practice after seeing what the consequences were.
No one could trust anyone! We would hang around, work, and be locked up in the camps. We were fed a rusty can of cabbage soup and a three-by-three-inch piece of bread daily. Sometimes they would take us for a walk (exercise, I guess). In the camps, people did not talk much for the first three to five months because no one knew who was a friend and who was an enemy.
Mama and I were glad that we had each other so we could talk and keep each other company.
* * *
October 1942
I no longer know what the future holds for us—for me. I know that I am no longer a child, but also not yet a woman.
Now I can only imagine what could be—but is not. I am not free, and yet not held imprisoned.
* * *
November 1942
The snow is piling up high—it looks for a moment as though we are back home—our beautiful “palace,” as I called it. Perhaps I am asleep and will awaken soon. It could be only a bad dream—I hope.
34: Labor Camp, Our First Assignment
1942
Finally the SS men told us that a group of us were being transferred to a factory in Kassel, Germany. They had all of the prisoners assemble, and they called out the names of those being transferred—Mama and I were included in the first group.
They loaded us onto trucks and took us to an Arbeitslager, a labor camp, in Kassel that supplied workers for a Kartonfabrik (carton factory). We were assigned to barracks in a large building inside a fenced-in compound, and everyone was relieved to see that we would have a bunk to sleep on. They were three-tiered bunks but were really an improvement from what we had been accustomed to! The work in the factory was not really bad; our job was to spread glue on the cartons after the machinery formed them. Mama and I had begun to have some hope that we could survive and that, when the war was over, we could make a life for ourselves.
The worst times were when we were not working—we were locked up and had nothing to do to pass the time. There were no books to read and no games (chess or checkers) to play—not even playing cards to take our mind off of our plight. I remember that Mama brought some scraps of cardboard from the factory, and she made a deck of cards with pencils and colored pencils that the man who was in charge of our camp had supplied her with. We would play simple games of cards. Mama continued to make these decks of cards until we had more than one deck to play with and the other prisoners had a chance to join in on the card games. Mama even drew kings, queens, jacks, etc., with the colored pencils, and everyone really appreciated her ingenuity and talent. During this time, we began to talk to each other more, and we began to make some friends. This helped to pass the time while we we
re locked up and not working at the factory. Everyone joined in sharing with others, and there was some hope that things would improve with time.
The time was getting close to Christmas, but there was no snow such as we had been used to in Russia, Ukraine, and Poland. The sun was very bright, but it was cold in Kassel at this time of the year (December). Mama was painting a picture for the Kommandant of our labor camp. He was a short, stocky civilian who, along with his family, lived in a big apartment building next to our camp. He would bring some postcard pictures and some oil paint and canvas so Mama could paint them to a larger size, and he would hang them in his apartment. We all benefited from Mama’s art talent and the beautiful work that she produced. The Kommandant would bring us some special treats occasionally—-such as onions, carrots, and oatmeal cookies. We would line up, and the lucky ones would catch something as he came into our huge room (which housed eighty to eighty-five of us prisoners). We would share the goodies with those who did not catch anything.
The windows of our barracks were barred with heavy metal bars, and as you looked out the windows, all you could see was the big red-brick wall of the apartment where some of the Germans lived. Sometimes you could hear the voices of some German children playing, and they would yell at us and make fun of us by calling us “jailbirds” and other names.
The Secret Holocaust Diaries Page 15
