The Brothers of Auschwitz
Page 37
Years later Yitzhak told me that he liked the sound of a baby (me) crying and seeing it in its mother’s arms because it was a sign of life.
My mother said that Yitzhak was like a brother – an adopted brother, and when I asked her where his parents were, she said, “Shhh, we don’t talk about that.”
When we learned about the Holocaust at school, I asked Yitzhak where he had been during the War. He answered that the only thing he was willing to say was: “If I ever meet the German girl who stood with her mother by the side of the road which we tread, creating a human convoy day after day on our way to work in the factory – exhausted, famished, desperate – the girl who gave me a sandwich every day, I would make her a queen.” He had tears in his eyes. I asked him about it a few more times but he said nothing more. He didn’t know her name or the name of the German town. I stopped asking. And I didn’t read anything more about the Holocaust.
Yitzhak and I kept in touch after the group left the village.
I moved to central Israel, and in 2001, published my first book, Come Auntie, Let’s Dance. I had a strong feeling that my next book would be about the brothers, Yitzhak and Dov. I shared this with my husband, Dror, who answered, “But they don’t want to speak of it.”
I called Yitzhak. He said that Yad Vashem and other organizations had asked him to share his story and he had refused. “I haven’t talked about it for 60 years, not even with my children. Why would I want to talk about it now?”
I called Dov and he refused as well, but agreed to tell me about his first days at the village, which I couldn’t remember because I was infant.
I took the train to meet him up North, where he lived not far from Yitzhak. He made us coffee and I asked if I could record him. I put the small device on the table and then he sat up straight in this chair, opened his eyes wide and began, “We arrived at Auschwitz at night. When they opened the train doors, there were bright projectors that hurt my eyes. I heard people crying and screaming, dogs barking and soldiers yelling at us, ‘Schnell, Schnell.’”
I was speechless. That evening, I called Yitzhak and he said he had spoken to Dov. “Alright, I will tell you my story, too.”
I sat with them once every two weeks for a year. First each one alone, and then together. We made slow and careful progress. I was worried about them. Sometimes Yitzhak would cry as he spoke.
I travelled to Queens, New York to meet Sarah, the brothers’ sister. We sat for hours in her kitchen as she shared her experiences during the Holocaust.
I began to read various books about the Holocaust, such as History of the Holocaust: Hungary by Randolph L. Braham and Nathaniel Katzburg and The Auschwitz Album, published by Yad Vashem and many more.
After that I sat for another two years and wrote the book. I made myself imagine I was in a work camp, living in huts, holes, famished – what did I see, smell, hear. What did my body feel like? I pretended I was walking down the unloading ramp at Auschwitz. I wore a coat even in the Summer and I couldn’t stop weeping.
Before I gave the manuscript to my publisher, I travelled to Auschwitz. I wanted to see the ramp, the huts, the ground, the sky, and the woods near the demolished remnants of the crematorium. I wanted to touch everything. The last page of the book describes some of my experiences during that visit trip.
Since then I have written four more books about the Holocaust.
Acknowledgements
I so deeply thank the brothers Yitzhak and Dov, who held each other’s hand during the most difficult moments and never let go. I am grateful that they were willing to tell their unfathomable story despite the enormous pain of reliving such horrific memories.
My gratitude to Sarah, the brothers’ sister, for sharing her heartbreaking story of survival. May her memory be blessed.
I am grateful to Lilly Perry, editor of the Hebrew edition – thank you for accompanying me on this painful journey.
I thank Yad Vashem in Jerusalem for supplying me with material that was enormously helpful.
About the Author
Malka Adler was born in a small village near the Sea of Galilee in northern Israel.
She began her work as an author when she turned 50. After taking a creative writing course, she fell in love with the art.
Malka has written six books, four of which are about the Holocaust. She obtained her undergraduate and graduate degrees in educational counselling at Bar Ilan University and is a family and couples’ therapist, writer and facilitator of several reading clubs.
Malka is married, has 3 sons and is a grandmother.
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