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Part
I
I was
born the second child to my parents, Aron Baruch and Chaya-Laja Birenbaum-Gutman
on the 31st of March 1920 (Jewish date 9th day of Nisan). The circumcision
(Bris) took place on the 3rd day of Passover in Radom, Poland. My sister,
Rajzl, was two years older than myself. On October 2, 1922, Jacob (Yakov-Itzchak)
was born and my mother gave birth on April 5, 1925 to the last of the
four siblings: Eliahu (Elek). We lived on Malczewskiego 17 until 1941.
Our father was a very learned man, but could not continue with his Jewish
studies due to the passing of his father, Jacov-Itzchak, and for lack
of funds. He was from Sienno, a small village near Ostrowiec. He planned
to become a ritual slaughterer (Shoichet), but on his way to Warsaw (Warszawa),
the capital of Poland, where he should have met with his friend, my father’s
funds ran short and he was forced to take up a trade. He became a cutter
of hard leather (soles for shoes). As long as I can remember, he worked
most of his time at the company of Avrumele Goldberg, Zeromskiego 9. This
was a large courtyard joining Malczewskiego 6. The company resided in
and manufactured shoes on the same premises. They occupied the first floor
facing the "Sad Okregowy" regional court on Zeromskiego. When
Avrumele Goldberg died, his sons Yoine, Kalman and Hillel continued the
manufacturing.
This long courtyard where we lived was a horse stable during the Russian
occupation of Poland before and during World War I. After Poland’s
independence, the stables were transformed into living quarters where
we rented one room. This served as kitchen, dining room, living room and
bedrooms combined.
Due to the fact that my father, always talking with people, gave parables
of the Torah, he was called by his nickname Aron Toire Kop (Aron
Torah Head). He was a very active member in the Gemilat Chesed Kase
(Free Loan Association). Many times when he came home for lunch (which
was one hour), needy people waited for him to discuss their loan applications
so that he could help them to get the loans faster or learn how to apply
for a loan. For the high Holidays, he volunteered, together with Mr. Sandel,
to conduct the services, including reading the Torah and blowing the Shofar.
We paid for the seats like anybody else and the income went to Beit
Yesomim Moishev Z’Keinim Orphanage and Old Age Home which was
located in two buildings. My bube, grandmother Mindel from my father’s
side, had to leave and sell her home in Sienno because she needed eye
surgery in Warsaw. After her recovery, with one eye only, she stayed with
uncle David Gutman in Radom. She died in the early 1930s. Uncle David,
who was married to Surke, was a carpenter where my brother Jacob worked
as an apprentice. At the liquidation of the large ghetto in Radom, August
16 and 17, 1942, they had three children, Heniek, Baltsie and Elchanan.
None of them survived the war. My father’s second brother, Toivie,
was married to Hinde and had four children, Yacov, Elie, Wigder (I cannot
remember the name of the youngest girl). He was a shoemaker and also lived
in Radom. My Bube and Zaide on my mother’s side, Hersh-Laib Birenbaum,
and his wife Sureh also lived in Radom on Staromiejska St. with my aunt
Sheva. She was married to Noote and had one son, Chaim Sucher, who had
the same name as me. We were named after my uncle who had died at the
young age of 21. Only a few months after my uncle’s passing, my mother
gave birth and named me after him. My mother’s youngest sister Ruchl
was also married and lived in a small town near Ostrowiec.
My father was born in 1889. He received a Jewish religious education,
studying in a yeshiva. He loved people and was involved in Jewish
organizations obtaining help for the less fortunate. He was a very dedicated,
loving husband and father: gentle, understanding, patient and sociable.
For his children, he was an educator and teacher. Just looking at him
for the first time, one had the impression that one knew him a very long
time. His eyes showed his character. For as long as I remember, he was
bald and a bit chubby. Looking at his picture as a teenager with his traditional
chasidic garb, he was not heavy at all. It seems he gained weight
after he married my mother, who was nine years his junior.
Before the First World War, Poland was under Russian occupation. In 1920,
when Poland became independent, the Polish language was a necessity, so
my father learned Polish. I still remember the scrapbooks where he wrote
his lessons. As a father, he was very patient with us. He seldom raised
his voice and rarely punished us with spankings. He believed that telling
and explaining was more beneficial than hitting. He was very patient in
explaining questions asked by his children. When I was about four years
old, there were guests in the house and I asked my father what time it
was. He asked me if I would like to look at a watch and know the time
by myself. "Sure," I said. So he explained how I could learn.
"A minute has 60 seconds. If you divide in four, it is 15 because
4 x 15 = 60. Every number there on the watch is five minutes. When the
big finger (hand) is on twelve and the small finger is on the one, it
is one o’clock. When the small finger is on the four, it is four
o’clock. When the big finger is on the three and the small finger
after the one, it is fifteen past one," and so on. This was the way
I learned how to tell time. He used the same method to explain many other
things. He also used language that was understandable to the person. Education,
especially Jewish education, was very important for my parents to give
to their children. The boys were sent to cheder (school for religious
education) at a very young age. Before we went to public school at age
7, we attended cheder mornings and afternoons. When we started public
school, we attended half a day and the second half was spent in cheder.
After supper, we did our homework.
My mother was an excellent balebuste (housekeeper) and cook, always
started from scratch and turned out a very tasty and nourishing meal.
The preparation for Shabbat was very special. Thursday was the market
day. Farmers came from around the town with all kinds of merchandise for
sale, for example, chickens, fruits and vegetables. They put up booths,
just like at a flea market. The same was with fishers and other merchants.
Our mother, like many other ladies, went to the market to buy fresh vegetables,
live chickens and fish. The chicken was to be taken to the shoichet (ritual
slaughterer), then she cleaned the feathers. The beautiful smell Friday
from baking chala and other pastries was so delightful that even before
coming into the house we could smell the goodies.
Every Friday morning before our father went to work and the boys to school,
we went to the Mikva, or ritual bath, as a preparation for Shabbat.
Friday evenings, rain or shine, before lighting the Shabbat candles, we
dressed accordingly and went for Shabbat prayers, usually on Koszarowa
4. This was a Beit Hamedrash (a prayer house for neighbourhood
people) during the day it was a cheder.
Shalom Alechem was said after returning from Beit Hamedrash and a
festive meal consumed. We then sang Zmires which are special songs
for Friday. Between the six of us, father, mother, and four siblings,
we had a wonderful choir. Many times, neighbours stood behind the window
admiring how beautifully we sang. Saturday mornings we went to Rebbe Reb
Moishele on Starokrakowska. Two large rooms of his living quarters were
designated for prayers and it was always full of worshippers. The most
enjoyable time the children had was Simchas Torah. Every child
had a flag with a red apple on top and a lit candle in the apple.
For attending cheder, the melamed (teacher) made a contract
every half year. He came to our house to discuss the contract. It was
signed for the Zman (half a year). Usually, it was done on Chol
Hamoed, Pesach and Succos.
It was almost a tradition every Sunday that our father checked what we
had learned during the week. Usually it was a chapter of Chumash
after the meal, and zmires and saying grace.
Although our father was a very religious man, he read aloud to us from
books of Jewish classics, such as Mendele Mocher Sfurim, I.L. Peretz,
and Sholom Alecheim. The Folkszeitung daily newspaper and Radomer Kielcer
Leibn on the weekends was a must. Because time for reading was scarce,
he used to read part of it walking home for lunch and while returning
to work.
Our mother was a beautiful lady in both looks and character. She was about
5 feet one inch tall, slim, with brown eyes and curly hair. She was born
in Kasanev. Mother had very close friends residing in Radom. One in particular
was Pearl Dina Krongold. We used to visit them very often and they also
visited us. They lived on Mleczna Street. During the war, they lived with
us for a while in the ghetto in one room and a small foyer, Pearl Dina,
her husband, two children and her mother. Our mother was very dedicated
to her children and our father. When we were sick, special care was given
to us by our mother. She cooked special food for us, gave us medication
on time, just like a trained nurse. In the winter, before we went to school,
a hot meal was waiting for us. Love for family was installed in us from
a very young age, as well as helping others. She was loved by everyone
who knew her. Her love for us shone from her eyes. There was always ways
of finding solutions for problems arising in daily life. Seldom did she
raise her voice to us, although I am sure we were not angels. If our mother
could not settle problems she left them to our father. Besides all her
love and dedication to family and friends, she was an excellent Balebuste.
Balebuste means manager, housekeeper, mother, educator, nurse,
cook, etc. On other words, a domestic engineer. For this, one has to have
a born intelligence that our mother was blessed with.
As young children, we had no worries. Once we grew a bit older, we realized
the differences between rich and poor. We did not have toys. We made a
ball from rags and played with it. We were taught from a young age that
we could not compare ourselves to rich children. What their parents could
afford, we could not. We learned to keep our dignity. When we were in
their homes and asked is we were hungry, although we could be lacking
the goodies they served their children, the answer was always "no
thank you, I am not hungry." I must have been about four years old
when we visited our friend Hitzl, the younger sister of Pearl Dina, on
Shavuot. When she started to serve tea and baked goods, she asked us what
we would like and mentioned what she had prepared. I ventured to ask for
cheesecake, which she had not mentioned.
When I was still a child, there were times when father was making a nice
living and mother had domestic help. For winter, our parents prepared
potatoes and coal. It was placed, especially the coal, nicely flat under
the bed. We were well dressed and always wore comfortable shoes that were
made to measure. Because my father worked in the shoe industry, he had
the opportunity to have the merchandise and the labour at a reasonable
price. Much of that changed in the early 1930s when there was a stock
market crash the world over. The good years almost came to an end. We
encountered hard times and sometimes very hard times. Father had to change
jobs and often had only part-time work. The savings were practically finished.
Even food became scarce. To keep their dignity, my parents never showed
that they were lacking things. I remember distinctly that when there was
nothing to put in the pot to cook for Shabbat, mother boiled only
water, just in case a neighbour opened the door, they could see that something
was cooking.
My sister Raizl, like all of us, was not very tall. She was about five
feet two inches, had a beautiful face and figure, blonde curly hair, grey
eyes and a light complexion. She was a very pleasant person to be with.
After finishing public school, she started to work as a shirt maker and
began earning wages, it became a bit easier for my parents to manage because
of her contribution. The circle of friends she had was made up of girls
and boys of the working middle class. Most of them belonged to different
political organisations. No one in this group attended high school, college
or university. One had to belong to a Zionist or leftist organization,
and also go to libraries, to make up for the knowledge one did not get
in one’s education.
As a youngster still attending public school, I belonged to Hashomer
Hatzair, later, as a teenager to left Poalei-Zion. Hashomer Hatzair
was the first introduction to information about Zionism and the Jewish
homeland. Through songs and lectures, I learned about Herzl, Nordau and
other Zionist leaders, as well as Hachshara, Palestine, Biluim and Kibbutzim.
Books, book reviews and Jewish daily newspapers also furthered my education.
In 1932, at the age of 14, after finishing only six grades of public school
(public school was seven grades), my mother became ill with typhus and
I was not permitted to attend school for more than three months. I had
to repeat my 5th grade. My father arranged for me to become a tailor at
Ladies Coats and Suits owned by Mr. Shloime Fishman on Zeromskiego 9,
the same courtyard where my father worked. The apprenticeship would last
three years. I earned no wages. Every six months, I received a small honorarium.
But I learned the trade. The only pocket money I had came from delivering
ready garments to customers, for which I got tips. From those tips, I
contributed to the household. It was definitely not much. Between my sister
and myself, plus father’s earnings, we managed frugally. The stock
market crash of the late twenties and early thirties which started in
the Unites States affected the whole world. Naturally, Poland was no exception.
Layoffs and unemployment grew. Finding work was hard, even for experienced
workers like my father. He lost his job at the Goldberg’s on Teromskiego
9 where he had worked for many, many years. One of the Goldberg brothers,
Hillel, opened a shoe factory and father started with him, but for a short
time, as a full-time worker. Part-time was not easy to find. Savings diminished
and times became more difficult.
In 1938,
father developed heart problems. The same year, my sister Raizl became
engaged to Josef Wiatrak from Jedlinsk (Yedlinsk). Jedlinsk was about
ten kilometres from Radom. Josef was a contractor for the Goldbergs, where
my father worked. My bube from mother’s side died in our house January
1, 1938, but the zaide was living in Radom. I went for him to be present
at the engagement which took place in our home, and a date for the wedding
was decided. On Thursday night, February 21, 1939, before going to bed,
father said he could not go to Mitvah. I was awakened half an hour
later to run for a doctor. When Jacob and I arrived with the doctor, it
was too late to save my father. He had died of a massive heart attack.
Friday, February 22, 1939 was the date of his funeral. The courtyard of
Malesewskiego17 was full of people who knew him, family and friends. Before
the funeral took place, Raizl’s fiancé made a promise that
the wedding would take place at the arranged date. A few months after
my father’s death, the wedding ceremony was performed. The Chupa
was in the house of the Kuper family. He was the Cantor of the "City
Beith Hamedrash". The reception was in our home and in the Kuper’s
home. We lived on the same long corridor. They moved to Yedlinsk and had
one son, Aron. None of them survived.
From Germany, the speeches from Hitler, Goebbels and others indicated
a war was near. Nobody expected such a tragedy where one third of the
Jewish population would be annihilated.
A few months before the outbreak of the Second World War, after Shabbat
services, Yoine Goldberg, the eldest son of Avrumele, told us that he
envied our father’s passing. When we asked what he meant (why envy
a dead person), he replied, "your father was buried according to
the Jewish law, where or how I’ll be buried, I don’t know."
He did not survive.
There was no inheritance after my father’s passing. Mother did laundry
for other people and all of us helped as much as possible. On September
1, 1939, Germany invaded Poland. Eight days later, Radom was occupied.
Soon after the German occupation, on orders of the Gauleither,
a Jewish Committee and Jewish police force were formed, obeying orders
of the German government. Their main concern was the Jewish population.
They needed people to do all kinds of hard labour, so each day a quota
of Jews had to report to the Jewish Committee. They were then assigned
to different destinations to work. In most cases, a Jewish policeman took
them to the work place. It also happened that when there were not enough
Jews for the assigned work (if it was the SS) they came to the city with
trucks and grabbed any Jew, young or old, loaded them into trucks and
drove them to the work place. Rich people did not go to work: instead
they hired others to go in their place. My brother Jacob and I were replacements.
This helped us to survive until we were able to get a steady job with
the SS in T.V.L. (Truppenwirtschafts Lager der Waffen SS) on Kolejowa
18 in the woodworking shop. Jacob was a carpenter; I was a tailor. We
had a cooked meal (Mrs. Schöchter and Mrs. Sztarkman were cooks)
daily five times a week. We didn’t work on Saturdays or Sundays.
We also had a privilege at the baker to get a quarter of bread early in
the morning before we went to work. This helped our mother and our youngest
brother Elek in the ghetto.
The ghetto was established on April 8, 1941. Elek worked in a barber shop
on Zgodna Street. From Keljowa 18, I had the opportunity to take an occasional
sack of wood shavings and pieces of wood home to the ghetto. The shavings
were not in the centre of the sack, so that when the guard checked the
sack, he could not feel bigger pieces of wood. It was approximately a
7 _ to 8 kilometre walk. Most of the work in T.V.L. was blue-collar work.
The T.V.L. was a warehouse of food that supplied the SS army of Radom
district. When transports of food had to be unloaded from the train, including
barrels and crates, 100kg sacks of potatoes or bales of pressed straw,
these workers had to do it. When they did not have enough blue collar
workers, carpenters, tailors and shoemakers were called upon to assist.
Because of this, the SS would drive down to the city and catch Jews for
work. Many times they caught religious people with beards and earlocks,
or others who were unable to carry heavy loads on their backs. The oxtail
whip went to work. Kicking and beating was normal procedure. The Orthodox
Jews were treated the worse. The SS would make a circle of all the workers
and watch how they cut off half a beard with a bayonet, many times with
a piece of skin attached. They forced them to sing and dance and there
was nothing we could do to help. I recall one case when Oberscharführer
Pömüler hit someone with the edge of a shovel for being unable
to work fast enough. The T.V.L. was considered the worse working place
in Radom. When Kolejowa 18 became too small for their needs, they moved
on Podjazdowa just across the train tracks. They took over Bakman’s
mill and an adjoining house for their workers accommodations. In 1943,
the T.V.L. became a concentration camp. My number was 1640. Before it
became a K.Z., Jacob and I used to save food from our cooked meals and
very early in the morning, I used to go home through the fence with a
container of food and still be back in time for work. There was not a
chance to do the same from the K.Z. The German police from a tower outside
the fenced gate guarded our living quarters. After the evening roll call,
the gate was closed.
We were approximately eighty people—prisoners—all with different
trades, including auto mechanics, painters, carpenters, electricians,
tailors, shoemakers, cooks and glaziers. All of us had more than enough
work to do for the soldiers and their families. In the carpenter shop,
we made many wooden crates to be shipped to their families with looted
merchandise. Some worked in the warehouse filling food orders for the
SS, some worked in Lehrgut, receiving boxes of empty bottles and stocking
them. Most of the workers were loading and unloading which was hard physical
work. A few women worked in the kitchen.
On Saturdays, we were usually sent to a public bath in the Staromiejska
St., across from the Jewish hospital. We were taken by a Jewish policeman
who afterwards took us to the ghetto to see our families. Through different
channels, we found out that there was to be an aussiedlung (evacuation).
The Saturday before the evacuation, Jacob received permission to bring
our youngest brother Elek to the T.V.L. We saw our mother for the last
time that Saturday, August 15, 1942. The liquidation of the large ghetto
was August 16 and 17, 1942. With tears in my eyes, I said goodbye, not
knowing for sure if this would be the last time.
Elek was only 17 when he came to work in the T.V.L. Each group of workers
had his own SS man as a meister (manager). We had Pitasch, a Czech
volksdeutsche. Elek had Scharführer Gumpinger. After
work, he would call Elek to shine his boots. This continued for a long
time without any incidents. Mornings, before starting work, and evenings,
before finishing work, we had roll calls. After the roll call, the gate
to our living quarters was closed. On one particular evening before roll
call, Elek came running in and told us that Gumpinger, while he was very
drunk, had accused Elek of stealing his cigarettes. Elek explained that
neither he or his brothers smoked and he had no reason to take his cigarettes.
Gumpinger could not hear what Elek was saying and started to beat him
when Elek ran out. Some of the boys were still unloading, so they were
counted in while making the roll call. Gumpinger called him the "kleiner
Gutman" (the small short Gutman). When Elek went out of the column
to face him, he asked Elek to follow him outside the gate into a closed
room and started to beat him with an oxtail whip. I heard the whip striking
and I told Jacob that I was going to run out of the column to save Elek.
When I came to open the door, it opened and Elek ran out. Gumpinger could
not walk straight and when the boys who worked at loading or unloading
the train came to the quarters, the gate was locked and nobody had the
right to make another roll call. Gumpinger did not obey the rule. He came
back after supper and called another roll call. The police guard opened
the gate. We saw who was calling the roll call and Elek became petrified
and did not want to go down. He was persuaded by us to come down, since
if he missed the roll call and Gumpinger found him, he might kill him.
We went down together and when Gumpinger called the "kleiner Gutman"
Jacob went out of the column to face him. He said, "I don’t
want you," and hit him with the oxtail. The same thing happened the
second time. At the third time, when Gumpinger started to hit Jacob, I
ran out of the column, grabbed the oxtail from Gumpinger’s hand and
threw it over the fence. The guard in the tower, seeing what was going
on, stood ready with his machine gun to shoot. He called his post and
within seconds, a few police guards were in our quarters. One of the guards
held on to me. I was sure that was my end. The police guard set me free
when Gumpinger was escorted from our living quarters. Next morning, while
I was going to bring water to dissolve the glue bars (which were put into
a container and the container was immersed in boiling water which then
dissolved the glue), Gumpinger saw me and called me to follow him into
the garage. When Jacob looked out the window and saw that I was following
Gumpinger to the garage, he called me to return to the carpenter shop,
which I did. When Gumpinger turned around and saw me going in the opposite
direction to the carpenter shop, he came after me and wanted to hit me
with his oxtail. We were on opposite sides of the bench and I managed
to avoid him by staying far away long enough so that he could not hit
me. Jacob, seeing what was happening, ran tot he office of Obersturmführer
Lorenzen and told him the story. He described how Gumpinger was disturbing
our work. Lorenzen left his office and came with Jacob to the carpenter
shop. He arrived quickly enough to see Gumpinger and myself still running
around the bench. Lorenzen ordered Gumpinger to leave and within a week
we heard that Gumpinger was sent to the Eastern front. This was the last
time we heard about him. I am sure that he was sent to the Eastern front
because he disobeyed orders rather than beating Jews. We remained in T.V.L.
until we were transferred to Szkolna which was an ammunitions factory
where Jewish K.Z. inmates were working. We did not work outside the camp.
The only incident I had with Jewish inmates was in T.V.L. with Brener.
He was working as an auto mechanic. He had his hands tattooed while serving
in the Foreign Legion. He was approximately six feet tall and about 200
pounds. After roll call in the evening, we received our bread portions
and a cooked meal. This particular day, I was the first to ask for my
bread portion. Brener did not like the idea of distributing the bread
before everybody was assembled. An argument developed and he grabbed a
kitchen knife and tried to stab me. I moved my body to the left and with
my right hand I caught his right hand with the knife. I received a small
cut near my elbow, which is still visible. A few of the boys intervened
and held Brener back. No complaints were made to the authorities and no
other incidents occurred.
Around the end of July or August 1942, after the day’s work and roll
call, I looked out the window facing the railway tracks and I noticed
a train with cattle cars and windows with barbed wire. Suddenly, I heard
a woman screaming to the Polish railway workers near the tracks--in Polish--"Moje
dziecko umiera zaplace 100 zlotych za butelke wody." (my child
is dying. I’ll pay 100 zlotys for a bottle of water.) None of the
Polish workers were willing to help when all it required was filling a
bottle with tap water to save a child’s life. This was, and still
is, the nature of Poles. There were some exceptions where people risked
their lives to save Jews. When I heard the woman’s scream, it sounded
very familiar. I am almost sure it was my sister’s voice begging
to save her son’s life.
Two more episodes occurred that I would like to mention. One in T.V.L.,
the other in Hessenthal. After the roll call, we were confined to our
quarters in T.V.L. A few of the boys, Jacob, Moishe Fishman, Salber, myself,
and two others were sitting and reminiscing about our loved ones, the
situation we were in, our future, and a question arose, namely, "what
do we do, assuming we survive, we get married, have children, and if some
of the children are boys, do we circumcise them?" Some believed that,
because we, as Jews, suffered through history from persecution, we would
not like our children to also suffer. We should not circumcise our boys.
The others believed that, in spite of all this suffering, including pogroms
in our times, we survived as Jews when other nations disappeared. Thus,
we should continue to circumcise our boys and as Jews, we would continue
to survive. Little did we know that a third of our nation, six million
men, women and children, would perish under such horrible circumstances.
The second incident occurred in K.Z. Hessenthal. Physically, we worked
very hard and were very poorly nourished. Many, due to malnutrition, had
to go to the so-called hospital in the camp. One barrack was designated
for this purpose, although it had very little medication available. Because
of this, we had many deaths. We did not work Sundays. Our camp guards,
the SS, wanted to have a little fun. They assembled the häftlinge
(inmates), cut a bread in portions and threw it to the hungry wolves.
They degraded us to such a degree that we did not think rationally. On
the third week of such a spectacle, I became tempted and caught a portion
of bread. Once I had it in my hand, a group of inmates pushed me to the
ground and what remained was what I could hold in my fist. The balance
was taken away. This was the first and last time I dared try to get an
extra portion of bread. One of our inmates, a Radomer, Moishe Kirshenblat,
began a campaign to refuse to give the SS the satisfaction of degrading
us by forcing us to lose our dignity. This we should not do under any
circumstances. If we have to survive, we will without the few crumbs we
keep in our fists. It helped and each week, fewer inmates assembled at
the whim of the SS.
We were evacuated in July 1944 by foot to Tomaszow Maswieck to a former
silk factory where we remained for about a week and then transported by
train in cattle wagons to Auschwitz (Oswiecim). We were forced to go through
a selection done by the infamous Dr. Mengele, and then continued to Vahingen-Enz.
We were the last Jews of Radom to be evacuated. Marching through the streets
of Radom, we could see the hatred in the eyes of the Poles and their satisfaction
to see the last of the Jews go. We were their neighbours and friends.
We were born, raised and helped develop industries (mainly tanneries),
active in art, culture, professions, etc., and we were betrayed.
I wore shoes with wooden soles. Because it was hot and very difficult
to walk, I removed the shoes and walked barefoot. Pounding the road barefoot,
I developed problems with my ankles. I had the feeling that they were
broken and I couldn’t walk. My two brothers, Jacob and Elek, dragged
me for about two days until I was able to march by myself. Thanks to them,
I survived. Behind the marchers drove a horse and carriage picking up
the sick and those unable to walk. It filled up very quickly and when
they reached the nearest forest; they drove in and shot all the Jews.
I was ready to give up, but Jacob and Elek said they would continue to
drag me until I improved. At night, we rested in fields or in farmers’
barns and continued on in the morning. We marched for eight days until
we reached Tomaszow-Mazowieck. Men were separated from the women. The
men went to the former silk factory and the women to the jail. The silk
factory was one big room with no washroom facilities. There were holes
in the floor to relieve oneself. The smell was unbearable, although those
who were near the exit had it a bit better. Water was scarce, food even
more so. The rest gave me an opportunity to heal my ankles. After eight
days, packed like sardines in cattle cars, we arrived in Auschwitz. The
Goldberg Family, for whom my father used to work, was in our car. One
of the Goldberg brothers, Kalman, had heart problems before the war and
his hair was grey. When people noticed that we were on our way to Auschwitz,
Kalman Goldberg asked Elek if he would shave his head, which Elek did.
On our arrival at Auschwitz, we were greeted with an orchestra playing
classical music, with a sign on the front gate, Arbeit Macht Frei
(work liberates) and a selection. During my apprenticeship, I took evening
courses pertaining to my trade. One of our teachers was Mrs. Woolf. We
marched together on the way to Tomaszow. She was with her husband and
a son of about 9 or 10 years old. When we were ordered out of the train
cars by Germans accompanied by dogs--German shepherds--women, children,
old people and able-bodied people were separated. There were a few trucks
standing nearby. When Mengele was making the selection of "who should
live and who should die" with his right hand in his white coat near
his breast button and only the move of his right thumb--right or left
deciding the fate of each individual. Mrs. Woolf’s son was on one
of the waiting trucks, together with other children crying desperately
to be with the separated parents. Our train car was nearby and I heard
this boy Woolf saying to the other children, "Don’t cry, do
you want your parents to suffer even more than they do?" I also saw
Mr. Piotr Frenkel, a Radomer philanthropist, carrying a young crying child
on to the truck and staying with him on the truck, which probably took
them to the gas chambers and crematorium. Our group, which came already
from a concentration camp (K.Z.), being able to work, we were sent back
to the cars. We received a portion of bread and salami and were sent to
Germany to a K.Z. called Vaihingen-Enz near Stuttgart. We had practically
no food the first two weeks. In the morning, we had coffee, dirty water,
and in the evening, we had soup. Where there was a potato peel, it was
a thick soup. Most of us worked in a quarry laying tracks to the stone
mill or mining and loading stones on wagons to the mill. The work was
physically very hard for undernourished people; it was slave labour. Those
who had a chance on the way to and from work to run out of the column
and grab an apple were the lucky ones. There was one group of inmates
who worked at a Von’s place (nobleman’s estate) and were treated
humanely. They had an opportunity to bring some food to the camp, which
was officially forbidden, and share it with others. Before entering the
camp, we were checked by the guards who were German SS soldiers and a
Jewish capo. Most of the time, the capo was Felek. Felek
knew which of the boys was bringing in food. Many times, he was the one
who checked them and let them through. When the soldiers checked and found
what they brought in, beatings followed. Elek and I were on a day shift,
Jacob on night shifts.
One day, returning to the camp from work, I was told that Elek was assigned
to a different camp and was to be transported in two days. Without hesitation,
I registered to go with Elek with no idea what kind of camp it was, where
it was, or what kind of work would be expected of us. Due to our upbringing,
we took care of each other wherever possible. For instance, when I mended
socks for one of the soldiers and received a piece of bread, or Elek shaved
someone and got something to eat, or Jacob, from his Meister boss, received
an apple or a sandwich, we always shared with one another. When one of
us felt weaker than the others, the weaker one got the better part of
food, a larger portion of bread or a thicker soup. On the way to and from
work, we always met and arranged to be on the same side to be able to
share with each other. I will never forget one particular episode. I was
working with a group laying railings. Sugar beets were growing nearby
on a field. The first opportunity I had, together with another inmate,
we ran to the field to pick a sugar beet. I managed to get one and come
back alive, the other inmate was shot and killed. We divided the bread
portion, half for the evening, and a thick slice of beet for us as long
as it lasted.
One of our former neighbours on Malczewskiego 17 in Radom, Leibl Zylberman,
wanted to help us with bread so that, perhaps, we could bribe the capos
and remain in that camp. I refused. Do not resist your destiny. I told
him, "this is our destiny, so be it." After his shift, Jacob
joined us and we were transported to Hessenthal where we worked building
runways for Messerschmitt airplanes. The Lager älteste camp
chief capo was a man from Budzin and naturally the people from
his town were privileged to have the best working positions outside the
camp. They also had an opportunity to bring in food to the camp to share
with others. As in the previous camp, we were checked at the gate by the
guard. It happened that some inmates were given lashes as punishment.
To avoid having them badly hurt, Felek volunteered to give the lashes,
as he would be able to make it less painful. After only 2-3 lashes, Felek
let them run away with whatever they brought in. For that he was loved.
In 1945, he came for a visit to the D.P. camp in Feldafing where I was
living. In many cases, when a former capo was recognized they were beaten
by their former inmates and lucky to escape alive. That was not the case
with Felek. He was guarded by those who were with him in the camps in
order to keep him safe.
From Hessenthal, we were evacuated to Allach-Dachau. Allach was a part
of Dachau K.Z. Lager. Jacob developed health problems and had to go to
the camp hospital. We were forced to leave this camp due to the advancing
Allied armies. We lined up and were ready to be loaded to the cattle train
when Jacob ran out of the hospital and joined Elek and I to remain together.
On the train, he cleaned the wound on his right hand with gauze taken
from the hospital. The order was to transport us to the Tyrol mountains
and be shot. They were unable to do this. We were travelling off some
course to avoid the Allies and did not reach the Tyrols. On April 30th,
1945, we were liberated in Staltach near Tutzing Obberbayern. Jacob, Elek
and I survived together and received food packages from the Red Cross
for the first time since being interned in the camps. The train we were
travelling in consisted of Army guards and heftlings (K.Z. inmates).
The last wagon had food provisions. Some of the former inmates, including
myself, managed to climb up the wagon and distribute bread, jam, cans
of preserves, etc. Those who could control themselves and understood that
after being undernourished for years, one should not begin to eat everything,
especially fatty foods in large amounts, did not become ill. There was
no advice from the Red Cross to be careful about eating what was in their
packages. What should we eat and not eat after opening the packages in
the state we were in? Many got sick from diarrhoea and died.
One week after liberation, we were beaten with a handgun by an American
soldier and thrown out of the place we were staying with a German family
with two teenage girls. The girls were girlfriends of the soldiers. We
came to a D.P. (Displaced Persons) Camp in Feldafing. This had been used
as a training camp for HitlerJugend. In order that it should not
be bombed by the Allied Armies, all the roofs were marked with Red Crosses.
On the way to Feldafing, we met many Radomer survivors who also knew about
other Radomer friends who had survived and their whereabouts. One of the
many was Fishel Goldstein. Philip, now residing in Washington, D.C., was
also in Feldafing. There were lists posted outside the office telling
us who was residing in Feldafing and other D.P. camps. Those who found
families or friends travelled to meet them and be with them.
News reached my brother Jacob that his girlfriend was in Bergen-Belsen
and he went looking for her, although she was not there. While he was
away, Elek and I decided to go with Bricha, Jewish Palestinian soldiers
serving in the English army, going via Italy and from there to Palestine,
legally or illegally. No border checks were made. We stayed in the Academia
military in Modena, northern Italy, where Il Duce, Benito Mussolini,
used to deliver his speeches from the balcony. The Academia military was
a transition camp. The committee of this camp decided to transfer Elek
and I south to a kibbutz. We had a stopover in Bari, from there to Santa
Maria. The road lay between the Mediterranean and our living quarters.
Courses in Hebrew were given for beginners by unqualified teachers, advanced
courses by teachers. Most of the free time activities were swimming, singing,
and once a week, discussions on political issues. Work was mainly in the
kitchen. Each kibbutz member was assigned to help out wherever necessary.
There, I met Radomer survivors living in Santa Maria and the surrounding
area. In the kibbutz, I also met one boy, Myer Blaiwais, who was with
me in T.V.L. Radom. He now resides in Israel. What I expected was that
we would receive certificates from the English government and legally
enter Palestine. Some of the kibbutzniks emigrated either way.
During our stay in kibbutz, we had a few visits from Muniu Epstein, now
in Australia, who had resided in Mittenwald, Germany, the same D.P. camp
where Jacob lived. He persuaded us to come and reunite the family. In
December 1945, we started our journey back through Italy, Austria and
Germany. On the way, we met other Radomers who were taking the same route.
The day before starting the journey, I swam in the Mediterranean. We had
no warm clothes and did not expect cold weather going through the Alps.
On the border, the entire group was arrested by the Austrian police and
then released two days later. The prison walls were full of names, everyone
who was arrested signed his name. There I saw many names I knew from Radom.
We had no problems crossing the Austria-German border.
Mittenwald was 8 km from the Austrian border. We arrived early in the
morning, white clear snow on the ground, surrounded by mountains. Stores
were still closed and unable to buy anything, we picked snow instead.
We were four people, Elek, me, Helen Brier and Fela Cukier, also from
Radom, hungry like wolves. Upon entering Jacob’s quarters, Jacob,
Bela and her sister Mania--my wife of 54 years now—were unable to
fill the plates of sandwiches prepared for us.
Shortly after my arrival in Mittenwald, I began courting a young beautiful
intelligent brunette one year my junior and on November 12, 1946 (Jewish
date--18th day of Cheshvan 5707), we tied the knot for better or for worse.
Thirteen months later we became parents to our son, Aron Baruch--names
after my father--born December 11, 1947 (Jewish date—28 of Kislev
5708). On October 17, 1951 (Jewish date 16 Elul 5712), my wife gave birth
to our daughter, Pearl-Lanna, names for my wife’s mother Pearl and
my mother Laja. The baby was suffering from birth. Her heart, lungs, intestines
were not developed properly and she was constantly at the doctor’s
office. Many times, there were house visits from Dr. Hyman Wiener. On
one of his house visits, he told us, "I can make a nice living from
healthy children, I suffer from sick children." Our dear daughter
passed away January 12, 1953 (Jewish date--25 Tevet 5713). The first terrible
loss for us. Surviving the war and being able to have a child was the
greatest joy for us. Suddenly and unexpectedly, she died in her carriage.
The diagnosis was crib death. By the time Dr. Wiener arrived, it was too
late to revive her. Our third pregnancy ended with the birth of a boy
who lived only about 1 _ hours. The doctors at the hospital did all they
could, but could not keep him alive. I saw him connected with pipes while
in the incubator. The doctors gave me no hope. I could not even go and
see my dear Myra in her room and tell her the terrible news. The feeling
of a mother going home from the hospital after delivery without her baby
is impossible to describe. The inner pain and depression are common. Time,
in its way, heals, but the pain cannot be forgotten.
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