 |
as they left Germany for Israel in 1949
|
|
[Page 229]
by Yekhezkl Itzcovitch / Tel Aviv
Translated by Janie Respitz
In memory of my dear parents Yitzkhak and Soreh Leah Itzcovitch, my sisters Hene, Fraydl, Perl, Rokhl, Yente and the family.
The destruction of European Jewry began in 1933, when Hitler took over power in Germany. This is when the actions of spreading and deepening hatred against Jews began. The sad and famous Nurenberg laws were enforced which lowered the Jews in Germany to the level of slaves and recklessness. All their possessions were confiscated and in many cities and towns murderers attacked Jewish homes, initiating pogroms, stole their last possessions, beat and chased the Jews from the cities. The same fate was faced by the Jews of Austria, after Hitler, may his name be blocked out, occupied that country in 1938.
Practically all over Eastern Europe terror by the fascist hooligans was strengthening against the Jews. Anti Jewish excesses were renewed in Poland as well. Already in 1936, there was a pogrom in Przytyk, then later in Brisk and other towns. The fascist fire soon swept through all the cities and worsened from day to day. The Polish government followed Hitler's regime with its actions and issuing of edicts. “Ghetto” benches were forced upon Jewish students as well as “Numerous Clauses” concerning Jews and the forbidding of ritual slaughter. Propaganda materials were wide spread against Jewish merchants. Polish signs were hung on Jewish businesses with the following slogans:
“Don't buy from the Jew – he is our enemy”. On the roads to the fairs,
[Page 230]
in the nearby towns, Jewish businessmen and merchants were attacked, robbed and beaten up. Free movement in the evenings was very dangerous for Jews. Here and there fights broke out between Jews and Poles, and in the end, the Jew who defended himself, was punished for “hooliganism” and sent to jail.
The Jews of Eastern Europe found themselves in a catastrophic situation. The skies above were covered with black clouds. However, nobody foresaw the horrible destruction where one third of our people would be killed.
Spread throughout all European countries, the Jews for generations weaved their lives in the spirit of Jewish and national belief, displaying a rare life force and talent in the fields of economy, science, politics and arts contributing an honourable amount to the countries they lived in. Hitler's soldiers trampled the national borders. The Jews were removed from under various coats of arms and placed under the swastika, and all the differences between religious and secular Jews or rich and poor was wiped out. The murderer's hand united all in poverty, hunger and epidemics until violent death.
All were mixed into one mass, trampled on and killed by the same extermination machine. Of all the Jews of Europe, the Jews of Poland suffered the most, the healthiest core, the greatest national awareness, politically, the most militant, and culturally the most creative. The Jewish community of Poland with its spiritual worth spanned over the borders of Poland and illuminated Jewish life in almost all corners of the world.
Already in September 1939 the Jews of Poland payed a blood tax. Even before a foot of a German soldier stepped on Polish soil, the “Messerschmitt” hailed bullets and bombs threatening death and destruction in the Jewish quarters of towns and cities. This was only the beginning. The great destruction started the moment the German army conquered Poland. Cities and towns were immediately robbed and decimated.
The Germans soon passed a law proclaiming the Jew is debauched. His honour, possessions, blood and life are worthless. Already by December, a few months after
[Page 231]
they captured Poland, the Germans gave an order saying that all Jews between the ages of 14 and 60 were obliged to do forced labour. They transformed the Jews into work slaves. They captured Jews on the street, dragged them from their homes and sent them to pave highways, chop stones, dry out swamps, cut and load peat and other types of hard labour. In some towns they created workshops where Jewish craftsmen were forced to work late into the night for the German army or German companies. After the western and northern portions of Poland were taken into the “Reich” as a German province, a wave of expulsions of Jews from these regions began. Thousands of families were torn away from their long established homes, loaded into wagons and taken to other cities and towns. There was a flood of edicts thrown at the Jews. The right of movement was taken away as well as the right to use any form of communication. “You are forbidden to possess this, you cannot work in your profession, you cannot read newspapers, you cannot listen to radio etc…”Jews were completely isolated from the rest of the world. But this was just the beginning. The order came to wear the yellow patch with the word “Jude” written on it and after that, this order: Ghetto. The Jewish population was confined to crowded, filthy streets, with walls cutting them off from the surrounding world. The goal was to suffocate the Jews in crowdedness, to let them die of hunger, die from epidemics, exterminate a people through a systematic, slow death.
To a large extent this was effective. The difficult conditions, moral and spiritual dejection, over crowdedness, hunger, hard forced labour, the lack of medical aid, all of this led to horrible results: mortality for tens of thousands of souls. Despite all of this, Jews did not lose confidence. Religious Jews looked for salvation and hope in the Creator of the Universe. Secular Jews, to the contrary, strongly believed in humanitarian movements and their leaders around the world. “There are powerful socialist and worker's movements, liberals, democrats, humanists, will they allow the extermination of a people?”
Jews patiently suffered, generating a bit of hope to survive this fearful time, and maintain their spirit. One more week, another day, even one more hour “Perhaps God will pity his children and we will live to see redemption”.
This is how Jews cradled an illusion. They did not want to admit
[Page 232]
that the ghetto was in fact nothing more than a death chamber where they kept the condemned before their execution.
After Hitler's assault on Soviet Russia, millions more fell into Hitler's captivity, from the regions of Vilna, Volhynia and Eastern Galicia, which previously belonged to Poland. The Nazi executioners switched to mass slaughter: killing entire cities and towns, young and old, men, women and children. Hundreds of Jewish communities in Poland were erased off the face of the earth. Hundreds of thousands of souls were shot and burned or buried alive.
An uncontrollable extermination flooded the Jewish ghettos and raged with rising strength. One destruction was worse than the next. The ghettos were surrounded by soldiers. Trucks drove through the ghettos with armed S.S. men, shooting and ordering people to stand at the gathering place. This acts were called “Deportations”. They divided people into “productive” and “non–productive”. The “productive” were sent to so called labour camps, but in fact the deportation was only a deception so the victims would not know they were going to be killed and to prevent resistance. In fact, the deportations were the final road to death.
They convinced the victims that in the camps they will enjoy better living conditions and they will work in factories and workshops. Once again they vacillated between hope and fear. Perhaps after all…they would survive this destruction…they wanted to live to seek revenge on the murderers.
The victims were brought to the so called labour camp, taken to bathe for “hygienic reasons”, handed towels and soap; they were ordered to place their clothes in order and write their names on their bundles so, God forbid, they wouldn't get mixed up with someone else's…could have the Jews even thought that this was a tragic deception?
Could these victims begin to believe that this was their final journey?
Only later, when they were in the corridor which led to the “shower room” did they feel their great catastrophe…
This is where the most horrifying scenes of terror and suffering played out. There is nothing to compare this to in human history.
This is how millions of our mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers were killed together with their last hopes…
[Page 233]
This is how hundreds of thousands of Jewish children, delicate babies, who had not idea what was wanted of them or why this was all happening, died.
Day and night, over a few years, human transports were taken to these death camps: Treblinka, Auschwitz, Majdanek, Dachau and others.
All of this took place right in front of the eyes of the entire world. This all took place in honourable Europe which prided itself on cultural achievements, and great developments in scholarship compared to the rest of the world.
This did not all happen in prehistoric times, but precisely at a time of the distribution of Nobel prizes for peace activists and peace martyrs. Yes, at the same time a murderous nation did everything in order to exterminate an entire nation for one “fault”: They were Jews. This murderous work was not done in secret. Out in the open! And the world? Who reacted to this? From near and far, from left to right they watched this coldblooded slaughter and remained silent! They did not disturb the murderers in their dark, murderous work, they did not try to stop the German brutality with warnings and sanctions. They were silent, the nations, even when the heart wrenching cries of tortured Jews reached them. Hundreds of thousands and perhaps millions of Jewish lives could have been saved if the world have reacted appropriately. However, the world's conscience was not awakened, it did not even shudder. Here and there various state institutions honour the tortured Jews with a minute of silence. Here and there, for the sake of appearances, memorial evenings are organized, dedicated to the Jews killed in the camps. But besides this – nothing!
Yes, the German people brutally murdered and the free world remained brutally silent. They were silent and they silenced the Jewish tragedy.
This is the truth and it will remain forever a historic fact.
How many Jews were buried alive after they were forced to dig their own graves? How much pain and suffering did the victims endure during medical experiments? Beatings with iron and rubber sticks on sensitive parts of their bodies; stabbing with long, thin lances in their ears, noses and lips to prove how long a person can stand so much pain…
How many Jews went mad when being taken to the gas chambers;
[Page 234]
How many mothers poisoned their children with their own hands before poisoning themselves; who is capable of describing these horrific tragedies of the millions killed?
It must be noted, that despite this nightmare they found themselves in, Jews still had spiritual strength which led them to revolts and uprisings. The heroic battles and uprisings in various ghettos have illuminated their heroism and broke through the dark wall of Jewish hopelessness and brought honour to the Jewish people all over the world. The heroic uprising in the Warsaw ghetto was not the only one.
Jews revolted in Bialystok, Tchenstokhov[Czestochowa], Baranovitch as well as other towns and cities. They fought and distinguished themselves with heroism and honour. Heroism was also displayed in resistances in Auschwitz, Treblinka, Chelmno and others. The following sons and daughters from Maków belong to this heroic group: Tuvyia Segal, Yosef Ludvinovitch, Yehuda – Leyb and Ezriel Glogover, Leybl Katz, Kurnik, Yakov Skurnik and others.
While we are doing a summary of this great destruction, we see how sad our balance is compared to other nations.
It's true, other nations suffered terribly during the war: Russia, Poland, Yugoslavia and others. However, 80% of their victims were soldiers who fought on various battle fields. Contrary to the civilian population, although they experienced difficult times, their family structure was not ruined. The threads of their families were not torn apart. We on the contrary, not mentioning professional losses in comparison to other nations, all our families were exterminated. After the war, there were no Jewish children in Europe under the age of ten. This means the eradication of generations.
Although twenty years have gone by since the great destruction (the Holocaust), you are, without interruption, connected, welded to your old home, attached with thoughts, heart and soul. Your thoughts, memories, longing and grief, all together drill in your mind and do not allow you to rest. People from Maków are always on your mind.
I always see all the fathers in their long black coats and silk hats. The gentle dear mothers in silk dresses, bejeweled and wearing
[Page 235]
Turkish black shawls on Saturdays and holidays, when the air was filled with holiness, hiding the grey days of the week behind light and joy.
I see all my friends who were active in communal life. The youth of Maków with their dreams, ideals and revolutionary spirit. The Hasidim, scholars, psalm reciters, the simple people full of love for their people and language. I see this all in a dream, but in reality, it no longer exists. Maków today, like hundreds of other Jewish communities in Europe, in reality, no longer exists. Today it has become the city of the dead. A big cemetery for Jews with no trace of the rich past. With the total expulsion to the crematoria of Auschwitz, Treblinka, Majdanek and others, generations of the well established Maków Jewish community were eradicated.
|
|
| Farewell party for the Itzcovitch family (at the home of Mr. Avrom Garfinkel) as they left Germany for Israel in 1949 |
The burden lies upon us, orphans of Maków, to remember our dear ones with feelings of pain and sorrow. We must honourably remember the pure Maków martyrs, our murdered mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters, who were barbarically tortured by the German murderers and collaborators and whose ashes are spread over all of Europe.
We have the sanctified obligation to remember our great tragedy. What we earned and what has remained. Remember the date, the 3rd of Tevet, and on that day light a memorial candle for those lives which were exterminated. May the memorial candles
[Page 236]
tell our children and children's children about the huge tragedy that befell our people. May this memorial book serve as an eternal monument for our Maków Jewish community, which was exterminated in the worst destruction in our history.
May their memory serve as a blessing!
|
|
| A memorial to the Maków martyrs. Germany, 1947. |
by Meir-Hirsch Ciechanower, Tel-Aviv
Translated by Dr. Joseph Schuldenrein
I was born in 1897 in the town of Ciechanow, about 30 kilometers from Maków (60 km from the eastern Prussian border), and 100 km from Warsaw. I ran a seltzer factory that provided a comfortable living for my family, a wife and three children-two daughters and a son.
At the time of the German occupation I was living at #4 Zhiloni Square.
Early winter, January, 1940. It was around midnight, and there was a loud banging on the door. When I opened up I stared at an armed German soldier who ordered me to follow him to the Beis-Midrash, around 50 meters from my house. I had no choice but to follow him. I was accompanied part-way by some of my family who feared I was being led to be executed.
Upon arriving at the Beis-Midrash I saw 20 horses, two or three of which were freed up from their reins, effectively loose. I noticed that the windows of the Beis-Midrash were littered with fragments of Torah parchment. The German ordered me to bind the horses together. Despite the fact that the horses were agitated and rocking wildly on their hind legs, I succeeded in binding them and fastening the reins to wall supports. The German seemed somewhat stunned by my boldness, and said “Hey Jew, go get a lamp because it's really dark in here.” I went back to my house to get several lanterns. When my family saw me return they were overjoyed. I grabbed the lanterns, turned right around to the Beis-Midrash and lit them. I noticed that the German was drunk and wobbly on his feet. Next, he ordered:
[Page 238]
“Grab the phone and dial up the Commandant.” I got to the phone and rang the number. “Who are you? A Jew?”—I heard a stern voice on the other end of the line. ”Stay right there. We are coming directly.”
I had managed to tell the Commandant that since he was drunk his counterpart had asked me to place the call and that someone should come and get the horses.
Five minutes later several German soldiers showed up on horseback. They cast a glance at their drunken comrade, lying face down on the ground. They broke out in laughter. Next, they looked at me somewhat approvingly, gave me a slap on the back and told me to go home. I thanked God that the only retribution I got was several slaps.
Rounded up for Hard Labor
In the winter of 1940 the Judenrat (Jewish Community Council) posted a list demanding the conscription of young Jewish men for hard labor. Fortunately, my name did not appear on the list. The next day following the dispatch of the first group of men to work details, I was nabbed on the street. I requested that the German official allow me to go home to pack my clothes and get some food. He went back with me. I grabbed a coat, some clean clothes, and some snacks and returned with him, near the Poviatov House (a landmark circular building), where a group of vehicles were loading up workers, men only. They were poised to leave for the work site. I asked the Jewish police official, Fishel Boorshtayn, if I might obtain a release. His response was “My job is to make sure that you stay by the vehicle”.
|
|
| Makówer Jews digging trenches, 1939 |
[Page 239]
I removed my jacket and laid it on the seat of the vehicle together with my sack of clothes. I also gave my pass to the same Jewish policeman and went directly to the German on the other side who had not seen that I had stripped down and laid my belongings on the other end. “Excuse me”, I said, “ I have no clothes, it's cold, might I run back home to get appropriate clothes, some gloves?É.my hands are freezing. I have already left my pass with that Jewish policeman on the other side of the vehicle.” I pointed to him. “Please, just let me go, I promise I won't run away and will return promptly.”
“Run fast” he yelled after me, “but come right back, as the truck is just about to leave and you will have no way to get out to the site.”
I eased up my pace in the distance and stayed home. I saw how they packed in the Jews, bloodied, exhausted, half-naked, clothes in tatters. And I thought to myself: there is no way I am going back.
Once home I found a hiding spot. My wife went over to Avraham Garfinkel the (Jewish) community chairman and chief. She explained to him what I had experienced. “That was the right thing to do. I only wish that the others had done the same.” Garfinkel also made sure that I was issued another pass. Shortly thereafter he hand-delivered the pass to my house.
A Head Whipping
Although the Ghetto had not yet been established, the Germans had already begun the process of concentrating the Jews in a formal quarter. On one occasion an official approached and ordered me to leave my home. I ran off to the house across the way and hid myself in the attic. I stayed there together with a fellow named Mendel Kleiner. A German noticed me and there, at the foot of the stairs, and commended “Get down” and I stood in front of him.
“Why did you run away?” he yelled, then beat me across the head with a whip. I felt the blood gushing down my nose. I realized that my nose had split open. More Germans showed up and the beatings continued. They paid a visit to my house and found a variety of luxury items and wares with my name and that of my son on them. They then took me down to the magistrate's office to determine if the suspected items were legitimately mine. A Folks-Deutsch (Ethnic-German) woman responded, “This fellow is a known smuggler”. I was led up to the second floor. The inspector examined the items and concluded that they were, in fact, legitimately mine. He bandaged me up and said directly “Since you are already here, please get into the truck which is transporting several Jews to work in the town of Tchervonka[maybe Czerwin].
[Page 240]
|
|
| Maków 22.3.1940 document |
[Page 241]
They loaded in the sick, women, and children with their bags and linens and drove us to the firehouse. The windows were broken and the cold was bone-chilling.
There were few hundred of us. Several died within days. Those who remained healthy were summoned to dig privies outside. There were no tools or shovels and we had to excavate the dirt with our hands and fingers. I was already ill and had decided to muster my remaining strength to run away. The rest of the group begged and pleaded for me to stay, fearing that they would be killed in retaliation. The fear was such that even those who were able bodied and stood a chance of escaping were afraid to take the risk. Nevertheless, some did take the chance and ran off. They informed my wife of my situation. The next day my wife showed up with a soldier named Brodovski who took it upon himself to get me out. And that's how I got back home.
Several locals from home were with me in Tchervonka[maybe Czerwin} including Moishe Bordovitch with his wife and children and the butcher Yisroel-Meier Petsinash with his wife and children. Some of the locals escaped and were hidden by Poles. Subsequently, when the ghetto was established they moved back.
Twenty Body Blows
We went to work every day. I never avoided the detail because one could count on having something to eat.
One day I returned to the ghetto from work, tired and with my shovel slung over my shoulder. Dressed in work clothes and with my work equipment, I was pretty certain that no one would bother me on my return. I was basically care-free. And then I saw a (Jewish) police official running towards me, closely followed by Steinmetz, the Ghetto Commissar. The German pointed towards me and ordered the policeman, Pavel Rosenberg, to stop me and escort me directly to the Judenrat. I went with him. On the way the German blurted out “You disgust me, you will be cut off”. When I arrived at the Judenrat building I was told to stay there and wait until they came back. Steinmetz and the policeman went out and only returned after they had rounded up another 10 people including several women. Ten minutes later Steinmetz and the policeman entered and barked:
[Page 242]
“You will each receive 10 lashes. Who wants to go first?”
To which I responded, “I'll be the first”!
Steinmetz ordered me to lay face down and remove my pants. When I stripped down to my underwear and positioned myself I received a stiff blow to the head with a police baton. He then nodded to Rosenberg to begin the round of 10 lashes. The beatings were firm but by the fourth Steinmetz drew his personal rod and whacked the policeman over the head yelling, “You see? This is how you beat him!”. Rosenberg collapsed on the floor, and Steinmetz meted out the remaining lashes to me himself. By the time he dispatched the last one I was numb. I had lost consciousness. They dragged me home somehow. Once home, the family started wailing, believing that Steinmetz had killed me. Neighbors began pouring into the house, eventually consoling me: “Don't worry. You'll be OK. This is war.”
Amongst the visitors I recall two, Shimshon Blum and Mattes Gutleizer (both murdered subsequently). Mattes told me: “We will all be killed, and I guarantee that only you will survive to bear witness to what will have happened. Don't worry, you will make it through.”
Over the course of several days I nursed my wounds and eventually returned to work.
Best Not to Sit Down
Every Thursday men between the ages of 17 and 65 were required to register at the Magistrate's office (this was prior to the Ghetto). Typically, the registration lines were long, as was the wait to process the paperwork. There was a Volks-Deutsch (“Ethnic German”) who looked at every ID card and stamped it. If someone had omitted a piece of documentation he would get a beating. Often such violations would result in a person's being led to a separate room to submit to 20 lashes across his bare skin.
I recall one particular instance:
I was summoned to the Magistrate in order to provide an assessment of the value of my house. The clerk, who was responsible for recording the details of the appraisal, asked me to take a seat. I was hesitant to do as she said because it was explicitly forbidden for Jews to walk on the sidewalk and to sit down in the presence of a German. When the clerk insisted that I take a seat I explained the reason for my refusal.
[Page 243]
She then yelled out “I am ordering you to sit down.” And I immediately sat down. Then suddenly I felt someone yank away the stool on which I sat. Before I knew it, I was face down on the ground. And then I realized that it was the guard who had pulled the seat out from under me. He screamed out “Jew, don't you know that you are prohibited from sitting?” Suddenly, there was a tussle between the clerk and the guard. She ended up recording the details while I stood and then I hustled out of the office as quickly as I could.
Another time my daughter Rivkah was walking past the town jail. She recognized one of her friends (who worked in the local pharmacy) sitting in a cell. She approached her friend and asked what had happened. A local Pole, who noticed Rivkah approaching the cell, immediately summoned the policeman in charge. He grabbed my daughter and gave her 20 body lashes. And then he ordered her to say “Thank you”. My daughter refused to comply. “Go ahead and whip me again but I will never say thank you for that, never.”
“Go and bring me 20 (German) marks”, he ordered. Bloodied and drained, she summoned every last bit of energy and ran out and brought the 20 marks. They let her alone after that.
The Payback
Once the ghetto was established, I lived together with my family and in the same place as Reuven-Yosef Zafian, (his wife) Freida and their daughter Giteleh and son Hershel. They were model children. Giteleh had an official position in the Judenrat. I was like a father to those kids, and I helped them out in any way I could.
The women in the ghetto were especially burdened and harried. And Giteleh was no exception. This was especially true (in her case) because she had a full-time job. There was an incident when Steinmetz entered the Judenrat and approached her, grabbed her by the hair and saw that the hair was a bit longer than the officially permissible length. He then ordered her to come towards him. Steinmetz led her outside the ghetto walls, sat her down on a bench and struck her ten times with his truncheon.
Giteleh was an only daughter and her brother, an only son. The entire family was eventually dispatched to Auschwitz where they met their fate.
[Page 244]
A high-ranking Gestapo officer took me and my brother-in-law, Leibel Freeman along with another Jew to a farm work-detail. He drove but we walked the entire way. The place was about 1.5 kilometers outside of town. As we approached the farm, he yelled out, “Look here, you filthy Jews, this is where you'll work”. He pointed out a group of white-feathered hens and said, “There are exactly fifty hens here, and they better all be here when I return. I also know the exact number of pigs and calves in this farm. If any one of these farm animals goes missing I will shoot you right here.”
We worked there for about 5 or 6 days. We cleaned out the manure and did all sorts of menial tasks. And afterwards we were sent back to the ghetto.
German Murderers
The Maków Ghetto was liquidated on November 18, 1942. I bore testament to the ruthless beatings of the Jewish population, the elderly, and women and children as they were all hunted down and concentrated in the central square of the Ghetto sector. Each and every house was searched, and emptied, the sick huddling on benches in the square. I noticed a swollen and visibly beaten fellow stooped on a nearby bench, Moishe-Dovid Fuchs;
|
|
| The bones of 21 souls hanged in the Makówer Ghetto in 1942-brought to burial in Maków |
[Page 245]
this was Fayvel Hendler's grandson, a proud fellow. The Nazis beat him ferociously and then shot him dead on the spot. Everyone witnessed the murder.
Nearby we saw Rafael-Hirsch Azrilevitch. As he gazed upon the unfolding scene, the man went seemingly berserk. He stepped out of the line and broke out in a frenzied dance, singing and clapping: “let's all be cheerful, lively and joyful” and he sang “It's wonderful to be a Jew, to be a Jew is greatÉ. I thank God that he made me a Jew”Éand on and on. His prattling continued for a while and then he moved back in the line. We all thought that they would shoot him directly for leaving his place and I kept prodding and pushing him back yelling “Rafael-Hirsch, what are you doing? Have you gone crazy?”
He responded “I am doing this with a clear head, knowingly, and I want them to shoot me; why torture myself to witness this horror!?”
They marched us out towards (the nearby town of) Mlawa; it was quite the scene. They beat us mercilessly, forcing us to run all the while. We didn't even know where or how to proceed; beatings and battering everywhere no matter what we did.
We finally arrived in Mlawa. Families were dispersed and separated, as the march disintegrated into chaos. But the following morning families managed to reunite somehow. The crowds were eventually directed to train cars headed for Auschwitz and among them was Abba Berenbaum. Unfortunately, he was completely exhausted, sapped of strength, incapable of moving further. Avrom Garfinkel ran to attend to him, and lead him onto the train car. Abba Berenbaum responded “Go, in health, dear children, I can't go on anymore.” And that was that.
Buna Concentration Camp
On the way to Auschwitz, a group of the Makówer Jews were let out at the Buna camp (adjacent to Auschwitz, part of the complex). My son Mohtel and I were among them. We spent two weeks in quarantine. My fingers were frostbitten and I was hospitalized. From that point on I did not see my son for over a year. I had no idea of his whereabouts, nor what had happened to him. The foreman of my work detail was a fellow named Frantz. He wore special pointy, steel toed boots. He had a habit of kicking everyone across exposed and bare skin to goad them to move faster.
[Page 246]
The man yelled out “faster”, “move out”. Almost everyone bore wounds and lesions to the point where they could not sit down. Prisoners prayed to God that their wounds would heal quickly, if only that they could tolerate a new round of kicks.
I was transferred from Buna to Auschwitz. We were loaded onto a freight-hauler, the dead together with the living. The dead were laid out on the floor and we had to rest our legs on the corpses as we rode. It was a brutal winter (I believe it was March, 1943). We wore short pants and were generally barefoot. When we finally arrived they ordered us to remove the corpses first. Other prisoners came to take away the dead, while we went directly to the camp barracks. Of all the prisoners in my transport I was the only survivor.
Once at the barracks we were ordered to lay down in the bunks. I shared my narrow “bunk” with another prisoner. There was a single thin cover-sheet for the two of us. The windows were open with the wind blowing through. We lay there until dawn. It was impossible to talk at night because of the bone chilling cold and my fingers fell numb in both hands. In the morning I was taken away from the barracks, and sprayed with cold water, and then my bandages and rags were removed and my fingers were bound together. I was sent back to the hospital and shared a single bed with two other patients. The one's name was Viatrak from Maków, I believe his first name was Simcha, Avrom Viatrak's son. He was a good looking fellow, just 18, and he was suffering from frost-bite on his right toe. The second man was a Mr. Geldi, a Dutch Jew from Rotterdam or Amsterdam, and he told me that he owned a perfume factory. He made a point of asking me that if I survived could I contact his wife and tell her that he died in Auschwitz? On the third day, a car with SS men drove up and took both of my bedmates from the hospital and their fate was clear. They were bound for the gas chambers and the crematoria.
Daily Selections
I was laid up in the hospital for six weeks. During that time there were daily selections as prisoners were taken away to end up in the ovens, the crematoria that took in thousands of Jewish victims daily. I received neither food nor drink during my first three days in the hospital. The explanation was that my papers had not yet been received.
[Page 247]
On the fourth day I finally got my ration: a liter of soup and a piece of bread. Upon release from the hospital I was dispatched to a new block populated with inmates who were either sick or invalids. Both of my hands remained bandaged and the wounds would not heal. The head doctor prescribed a sauerkraut-based remedy to accelerate my recovery. But I only received it once.
In the hospital I was laid up near a Czech Jew by the name of Weiss. He worked at the D.A.V. (German Mechanical Works) as a carpentry foreman. He told me that if I could manage to get assigned to the D.A.V. I'd be able to avoid the gas-chamber. When I left the hospital, I headed out to the central work plaza along with the thousands gathered there. A large number headed off to the carpentry workshops. I stayed back, as I had no idea where to go. I ended up in what appeared to be a light-duty workshop, knowing full-well that I was incapable of performing any hard tasks since my hands were inflamed. It was clear, however, that this particular workshop was heated so that my disabled hands might warm up. I entered the carpentry section. I came up against a Kapo, a Polish Jew from France. He approached me and asked “What are you doing here?”
“I came here because I heard that there is a need for workers”, I answered. The Kapo responded to me with a slap across the face. I then collapsed in front of him. The incident was observed by the Uber-Kapo, also a Jew. He turned directly to the Kapo who had beaten me and asked “Why did you hit him? Don't you see that he has bandaged hands and that he is an older fellow?”
He drove me about a kilometer beyond, to yet another municipal square. Next, he summoned a second Kapo to assign me a work detail and keep an eye out for me.
Matter of Life and Death….and a Sewing Needle
When I was in the hospital, I had a tight, ragged jacket that was missing several buttons. Because of my frost-bitten hands and the lesions I was not able to fasten the flaps to keep out the cold winds that blew through the block. But there was a fellow six beds down from me who had a needle and thread. I approached the man and asked him if I could borrow the needle and some thread to fasten the buttons. He gave them to me. Next, I approached another prisoner and asked him if he could sew on several buttons for me since I was incapacitated. When I returned to give back the needle the fellow who gave it to me claimed that the point of the needle was broken. He made a stink about it:
[Page 248]
“You scoundrel, it's clear that you destroyed my needle, do you have any idea what you have done? Do you think that I can get another needle in this place?”
A Polish kapo, a doctor in the hospital, overheard the quarrel and approached me. He gave me such a fierce blow to the chest that I collapsed on the floor. I began yelling and writhing in pain on the ground. I thought that it would all end, right then and there. I lay there all night and, first thing in the morning, I awoke and opened my eyes and saw the inmates swarming around me stunned. “Look at him, he's still alive.” It turned out that the fellow who lent me the needle got beaten similarly by the same Kapo.
The Death March
On the 18th of January, 1945 we were led out of Auschwitz on foot directly to Gliwice. On the way the prisoners began dropping like flies. Those who could barely move were shot on the spot. Those who collapsed from exhaustion passed out and met their fates.
The Germans destroyed everything in their wake, leaving nothing intact. I marched out together with a fellow from Katzeht. Over the first two days we got no food or drink. The privations caused me to lose my sight. My partner guided me along since I could not see where I was going. I recall that his name was Avrom Mahndershtayn and he was from Mlawa. He did not let me out of his sight for a moment because he knew that this meant certain death for me. Two days after liberation Mahndershtayn himself fell sick with dysentery and died.
Once in Gliwice we were herded into a firefighter-station. We thought that for sure we would be dispatched to be gassed. I remember that Henech Lassek, Avrohom Lassek's son from Maków, stuffed a piece of bread in my mouth because he saw that I was already half-dead. The bread fell to the ground. Thereupon Lassek ran towards a stationery railroad car, on the tracks, and filled a can of water for me to drink. As soon as I guzzled down the water my vision began to return. “Can I get a piece of bread?” I asked him. He stuffed another piece of bread in my mouth and I was able to swallow and digest it. That was the cure that saved me.
In Gliwice we sat outside in a series of open benches. A storm came in and snow started accumulating and covering us. We bunched up together for warmth, drifting off, and imagining that this was finally it, the end: we'd freeze to death.
[Page 249]
But it was probably the snow that insulated and warmed us on the way to the concentration camp at Gross-Rozen, a hell-hole that was even worse than Auschwitz. That's where I saw people wandering around like zombies, almost stick figures. Dead folks walking, that's about it.
The Camp Commandant at Gross-Rozen told us as follows: “You should know that Auschwitz is a vacation spa compared to Gross-Rozen”. He led us to a huge auditorium. There were about 2000 people in the place. It seemed overflowing, we were laid out, one on top of the next. We literally had no room to move and anyone who tried to get out never came back in. You also had to take care of your bodily needs in place. We were there for 2 or 3 days. We got nothing to eat. When one wanted to get food in the camp kitchen one returned with nothing, since the kitchen was set on a steep hill and the camp quarters were in the valley. Aside from the fact that one did not have the energy to climb the steep slope leading to the camp kitchen, if one managed to get some food or soup in a container the slopes were so slippery that one collapsed, together with contents of the container that spilled out and disappeared down slope. There were those that tried to slurp the soupy earth directly.
The Trip to Dachau
We got word that another transport was imminent, but we had no idea as to where. We just ran to the assembly site. At this point we felt that we had nothing to lose.
Once we got to the site, there were a couple of thousand people waiting. Everyone got a ration of bread together with a piece of raw, red meat. We were marched to the train station and stuffed into freight cars. When the cars were packed to overflowing an SS officer came by. When he peeked inside he said “There is room here for a few more”. They packed in a few more. The train started to move out and we figured again that this was it, the final journey. We traveled for three days in these locked and sealed box cars. The human crush and the noxious air resulted in many deaths. When it seemed that we were finally doomed our luck took a turn for the better. The train cars braked to a halt. Standing in front of us were two women sporting white caps with red crosses on their arms.
[Page 250]
They doled out (paper) cups of soup to each and every one of us. The cups emptied even before we finished swallowing. And we remained hungry.
The train moved on. Within several days we reached Dachau. We disembarked from the freight cars. Once out, we observed vehicles loaded with corpses driving past. The bodies had been dropped off the train and then gathered up on the way in. Those of us that survived the trip followed the corpse-laden vehicles on foot. We were herded into the camp and assigned beds and bunks. We slept three to a bed, two on the ends and one in the middle, feet facing the opposite direction. We stayed there for two weeks in quarantine and were then moved to a camp in the woods near Muhldorf (in the vicinity of Munich). I remained there until April 1, 1945. Subsequently, I was taken to Muhldorf together with another 200 people. Once there, we survived on rations of potatoes. We worked there digging holes and building makeshift shelters. They also made us clean out the remains from the bombed-out train station. I stayed there until approximately April 25, 1945. They put us back on a train, to where, again…..I have no idea. The train took off and moved in circuitous routes since the rail lines were variously bombed out and blockaded. I was liberated at that same train station on May 1, 1945.
“You are free to go”
On the eve of liberation, April 30, 1945, members of the SS entered the train cars and announced “Germany has surrendered, you are free to go.” We raced out of the cars and ran several hundred meters before hearing a cry “Not so fast, get back into the cars!” They chased us back, beating us on the way in. Some died on the spot. I made it back to the car, then spread out on the floor and slept through the night. The next morning someone yelled out “The Americans are here”. I paused for a while and then slid down from the car that was stationed in the middle of the field. The Americans had already settled in there and brought us boxes of food. We stayed there for two days. Subsequently they came to get us and set us up in a school. Eventually they took us to get bathed and washed, distributed pajamas, socks and shoes. Germans were mobilized to attend to our needs. For the first time in three and a half years I was able to sleep in a normal bed.
[Page 251]
I was able to drink a cup of coffee and eat a sandwich. We stayed in the Feldafing D.P. camp for two years and three months. On May 17, 1947 I arrived in Israel in one of the waves of illegal immigration.
|
|
| Yosl Makówer (in the first row, first on the right) and Meir-Hersh Ciechanower (second row, first on the right) together with a group of Halutzim for Hacshara, Maków, 1932 |
|
|
JewishGen, Inc. makes no representations regarding the accuracy of
the translation. The reader may wish to refer to the original material
for verification.
JewishGen is not responsible for inaccuracies or omissions in the original work and cannot rewrite or edit the text to correct inaccuracies and/or omissions.
Our mission is to produce a translation of the original work and we cannot verify the accuracy of statements or alter facts cited.
Mak”w Mazowiecki, Poland
Yizkor Book Project
JewishGen Home Page
Copyright © 1999-2024 by JewishGen, Inc.
Updated 09 Apr 2021 by JH
