CHAPTER 7

MORDECHAI CHAIM RUMKOWSKI

We were told that shortly after the German occupation of the city of Lodz, a high ranking Nazi officer visited the Jewish committee, (kehilah), and accidentally bumped into Chaim Rumkowski. "Who are you?" the Nazi evidently barked at the scared old man, whom it took a while to straighten out and give a proper reply to the Nazi officer towering over him.

The officer in question, who turned out to be in charge of creating a ghetto in Lodz, apparently liked what he saw in this distinguished looking elderly man. Rumkowski with his full head of bushy white hair and black rimmed glasses seemed to be just the personality the German was looking for. Without further questioning him, the Nazi told Mr. Rumkowski that from now on he will be the head of the Jewish population of Lodz and will be known as "der Aelteste der Juden."

Nobody really knows if this is what actually happened on that given day at the Jewish committee. But what we know for sure is the fact that this frail old man suddenly became strong enough to assist the Nazi authorities and maintaining the longest lasting ghetto in all of occupied Europe.

On May the first of 1940, the gates of the Lodz Ghetto were hermetically shut from the outside world with large billboards placed in front of each gate proclaiming this area as a diseased district and strictly off limits. In German it read,"Seuchen Gebiet, Eintritt Verboten."

THE KING OF THE GHETTO

I don't know and hardly believed that others really know how and with whose help Rumkowski managed in such a short period of time to meet a deadline submitted to him by the Nazi authority. I wouldn't even try to research this subject. The fact however remains that on May the 1st 1940, Rumkowski had in place a complete "Cabinet" of heads of all important departments, a strong unarmed, of course, large police force, fire stations, and directors of numerous to be established factories.

With his unsurpassed energy the "preses" held meetings with hundreds of former tailors, furriers and other craftsmen whom he appointed as instructors and production managers in yet to be established factories. His favorite motto during his many speeches to the Ghetto population and on posters with his signature was, "survival through labor." The former tireless life long fund raiser on behalf of Jewish orphanages, universally known as the "father of the orphans" gradually went through a transformation from a gentle old man into a dictatorial despot who blindly collaborated with the Nazi authority.

Among many harsh measures on the way to the establishment of the Ghetto, were several mass deportations of so-called criminals. These first transports to labor camps and death camps were filled with thousands of unemployed young men, among them a small number of petty thieves and very few with legitimate criminal records. Also many buildings near the Ghetto fence were being forcefully evacuated and their occupants deported to the Lublin area which was supposed to have become a Jewish district.

Although it was quite clear that those deportations occurred to assure a degree of smooth sailing for Mr. Rumkowski and his clique, it was never really established who were in fact the initiators of these early deportations. My guess is that Rumkowski was just an agreeable participant to the Nazi initiative.

Rumkowski who soon became known as the "preses" or the King of the Ghetto, also established Ghetto money with his exclusive signature. His signature also graced each order or directive to the Ghetto population.

The preses and all members of his family were living in relative luxury, and so did everyone of his trusted cabinet members. Factory directors and ranking civil servants received special food rations. In a bit lesser degree, special privileges were also granted to factory instructors, foremen, and to all members of the Ghetto police force and firemen.

While the whole existence of the Ghetto was based on the factory workers, the only addition to their meager food rations was a daily soup at the factory. However, most blue collar workers, laborers with part time jobs and the unemployed had to live exclusively on their prescribed rations.

The ever-deteriorating situation in the Ghetto and the steady increase in deportations, seemed not to soften Rumkowski's convictions. Unfortunately the opposite happened. He became even more resilient. In his speeches before deportations the preses urged Mothers to hand over their children in order to save the rest of the Ghetto population."We are a sinking ship", he forcefully tried to convince his distressed listeners, "so we must unload cargo to stay afloat".

It was hard to believe that this kind of argument came from the mouth of the former "Father of Jewish orphans." He became the most despised and hated individual next to our Nazi oppressors. His notoriety reached every town and hamlet in occupied Poland. Inmates of every Ghetto and concentration camp soon became aware of the "Mad King of the Lodz Ghetto."

Although Rumkowski’s goal to turn the Ghetto into a network of factories instrumental to the Nazi war effort,was indeed fulfilled, it did not deter the Germans from conducting frequent deportations and small scale raids. Prisoners like petty thieves were frequently being taken from their cells and deported.

Sometime in 1942, Rumkowski’s exclusive leadership of the Ghetto was challenged by David Gertler, the head of the Sonder Commando, a special police force of exceptionally strong men. Due to corruption in the higher ranks of Rumkowski’s trusted cronies and mismanagement by the inexperienced head of the food supply department, Mr. Szczesliwy, Gertler’s star kept on rising. Gertler who apparently cooperated with the local Gestapo, in the eyes of the Ghetto population was considered some sort of a saviour. He became the official overseer of the entire food supply department of the Ghetto. Instead of letting tons of produce especially potatoes spoil and freeze inside the warehouses, Gertler with his staff of able managers increased the rations, while distributing the perishable items right after their arrival into the Ghetto.

Apparently Rumkowski became ever more irritated and more abusive even to his own staff. According to people who were working with him he apparently behaved like a wild man, who sometimes in a state of rage physically assaulted his associates.

While Gertler became a beloved figure in the eyes of the Ghetto population, Rumkowski became ever more disliked and hated. Even the "Ghetto troubadour" and song writer Yankele stopped writing songs about the preses replacing them with new songs of praise for David Gertler.

MY PERSONAL ENCOUNTERS WITH RUMKOWSKI

My first encounter with the preses was a indirect one, but fruitful nevertheless. His designs for turning the Ghetto into a giant network of factories just began to take shape. Great numbers of the population were already employed and ever more were being hired. But there were still thousands of unemployed, who were living on welfare. The amount of money received by a family each month did just cover the price of the bi-monthly food ration. It was the beginning of 1941 and my Father who had no necessary skills to work in one of the already established factories automatically became a welfare recipient. My Mother who was hoping that a comforter factory will soon be established had to wait a long time for that to happen. My twin brother and myself besides lacking necessary skills were too young to be hired anyways. However, I did not consider myself too young to understand and be quite disturbed

by the fact that my family is on the welfare role. To me it did not seem logical and believable that the Nazis became humane and willing supporters of unemployed Jews.

At the first occasion I told my parents about my concerns and laid out for them a plan which crossed my mind recently. I was thinking of writing a letter direct to Rumkowski pleading for his help to find a job at least for our Father. At first my idea looked to them a bit far fetched. But after giving them all the details of what I intend to write, they were in full agreement with me and urged me to do it as soon as possible.

Being well aware of Rumkowski’s pre-war activities and connections to my uncle Katzberg, who was an important contributor and benefactor to the Jewish orphanages, I decided to incorporate this part in my letter to him. I also decided to mention the fact that Rumkowski was an invited guest at the festive banquet given by the General Zionists in honor of my uncle’s aliyah to Eretz Israel in 1935. At that time my uncle was the president of that organization. To make my letter even more understandable to the old man I attached a photo of my uncle and his Tel- Aviv address.

No more than two weeks after I mailed my letter we received a summons for my Father to appear at the employment office for an interview. Soon after my Father was hired as a watchman at a large produce warehouse.

Automatically my family was taken off the welfare role and a short time after one of the largest and cruelest deportations from the Lodz Ghetto took place. Thousands of welfare recipients with their families were loaded into cattle wagons and shipped to a unknown destination.

My second encounter with the "King of the Lodz Ghetto" was a direct and personal one. We actually met face to face. Although of a lesser importance than our first encounter, which involved the well-being of my whole family, this one touched only me personally, but nevertheless became an unforgettable event which I believe contributed to my successful struggle for survival.

It occurred to me in the early summer of 1943, just several weeks after the Ghetto went through the terrible trauma of a delayed distribution of the bi-monthly rations. The same as most Ghetto dwellers this period of extreme hunger left me in an extremely week state from which I could hardly get out. I lost more weight than my body could afford, and was pale and sick looking.

Since that tragic period of total hunger, the Ghetto population went through a drastic change in their overall appearance. People changed beyond recognition and the mounting death rate and the general condition of the labor force deteriorated to the lowest level. Men and women who were just weeks before in pretty good shape became unrecognizable. With their skeletal bodies they could hardly manage to walk with their swollen feet and became completely unable to work. Besides my brother’s and my weak state, my Mother started to complain about her extreme tiredness and some swelling of her feet and abdomen.

By exchanging a two week bread ration, (one two-kilo loaf), we managed to obtain a small bottle of "vigantol," a miraculous remedy for acute swelling. After taking daily drops of this medicine, Mother’s condition improved to a point of being able to return her factory job. In the meantime however due to the fact, that for several weeks our daily intake of bread had to be drastically reduced, our hunger pains became even stronger.

By the time we started to consume our normal bread rations, my brother and I were already so weak that the strain of a regular day’s work became almost unbearable to endure. But at the same time I started to notice some unusual red spots on my neck and other parts of my body. Some of them became quite painful. Since we did not experience any body swelling and fortunately my Mother took good care of us, we were both continuing our jobs at the factory.

Although some of the red spots on my body slowly disappeared painful boils on my neck were growing in size. The constant pain became ever more difficult to endure.

At the beginning I did my best to keep Mother from the severity of my condition, but the excruciating pain kept me from sleeping, I could not hide my secret anymore. My condition became so serious that I was forced to stay home for quite a while. My Mother of course did her utmost to ease my suffering, but realizing that all her efforts were in vain, she took me to a near-by doctor.

The diagnosis was predictable: it was caused by a lack of vitamins for which unfortunately the doctor had no remedy whatsoever. My Mother as always gave me a lot of tender care and even larger food portions, at her own expense, of course. She insisted that she could manage with smaller portions. Although I vigorously resisted her generosity, she did not give in. She needed her rations to be able to continue her daily work at the factory and her work at home. All my arguments of course did not change her mind.

Without not too much complaining, I struggled through my days and sleepless nights. I kept on losing more weight and walking up to our fourth floor flat became quite a challenge.

In this condition I had to continue to work again at the factory, hoping for the best. Amid Mother’s help, care and devotion and perhaps some intervention from my "Guardian Angel", my condition slowly started to improve. At first the boils began to shrink and soon they slowly started to disappear.

RUMKOWSKI'S APPARENT SEARCH FOR A REMEDY

Sensing the gradual diminishing of the Ghetto labor force, the "preses" with the apparent cooperation of David Gertler was desperately searching for a remedy to improve the health of the Ghetto workers.

Sometime in June of 1943, posters on factory billboards were telling us that by the grace of Chaim Rumkowski several so called "supper kitchens" are going to be established exclusively for the working people of the Lodz Ghetto. Lists of names will be provided by factory directors and the chosen workers will benefit from a "special gift from me to you." And it continued with, "Each worker will receive seven nourishing and delicious suppers"...signed M. Ch. Rumkowski.

Right after the opening of the first kitchen this worthy and very important project became marred with the terrible Ghetto disease which we called "Protekcja" (Patronage). Although some workers were lucky enough to receive this precious gift of seven suppers, most of the recipients turned out to be family members of factory directors, close friends of administrators, office workers, etc.

My brother became one of the lucky ones, simply because our neighbour, who was at the time the production manager of the factory where he was working, put Meyer’s name on the list. Through my Mother’s intervention my twin brother gave me a gift of one of his suppers.

The evening of that special event was truly extraordinary for me. The moment I entered this heavenly place, the aroma of a real kitchen, the beautiful smell of fried hamburgers and fried potatoes simply intoxicated me. When the food was put in front of me on a large plate, filled with those delicious home fried potatoes, vegetables and a huge juicy hamburger, I thought that I was just dreaming. This fantastic meal was served after I already had finished a large bowl of a dense vegetable soup. After that I was surprised by a large slice of chocolate cake and tea. Although I was really tempted to consume that seemingly delicious cake I had decided to take it home as a gift for my Mother. I sincerely felt guilty to have had such a sumptuous meal while my Mother had to do with a watery soup for supper.

As I expected, my Mother was vigorously resisting my gesture. However when I insisted that I am really not able to have another bite and that she would make me happy to eat it, she finally gave in. My Mother however looked at me with an understandable smile on her face, embraced me and planted a warm kiss on my forehead. Then she turned to my brother thanking him for what he did for me. After watching my Mother enjoy eating that special treat, I went to sleep fully content and as always I thanked God for blessing us with such a Mother.

RUMKOWSKI'S SECOND CONCEPT

After launching of the supper kitchens, the Ghetto administration must have realized that this enterprise was not enough to solve the problem.

Shortly after a new project, apparently proposed by the preses himself and with the cooperation of the German administration started to take shape. Rumkowski's main argument was the rescue of the physical as well as the mental health of the Ghetto workers in order to sustain the Ghetto and avoid further deportations. The plan which emerged was to erect several convenient places for workers to regain some of their strength.

Sometime in June of 1943 several vacated buildings at the edges of the Ghetto area, were converted into makeshift summer resorts. These dwellings which became known as "Homes," with a capacity of housing about a hundred vacationers each, supposed to serve only the working force.

Unfortunately again, as with the supper kitchens, the lists of workers chosen for a seven day stay at such a home, were provided by factory directors and administrators. After the initial excitement, it became quite clear that the procedure to administer this new project did not differ from the first one. Again as before, very few actual workers had the privilege to benefit from this very important endeavour.

The presence of several workers at each of the homes became a calculated attempt to cover up the dirty practice of "Protekcja" by the greedy and selfish factory administrators.

AN ATTEMPTED SHORT STRIKE AT THE FUR FACTORY

The "Project Home" like the previous attempt to help the tired factory workers, became as futile and worthless as the first attempt to help the labor force. Although "Protekzja" was already a fact of life in this hellish place, it was still difficult for many of us to be reconciled with this incurable disease. The fur factory which had among his laborers many former unionized workers and union leaders was at the forefront of a protest against this horrible practice.

Since our factory already had an organized group, a committee to protect as much as possible the legitimate rights of its workers, it took some action to see to it that as many as possible of our workers should be included in that new project. After a meeting with the factory director, it became clear that again just a handful of actual workers were placed on the list of the chosen ones.

After a short debate with no opposition at all, the committee chaired by its leader decided not to accept the directors list and to stage a work stoppage in protest. This daring act of defiance was from the outset doomed for failure. Fortunately by the end it turned out to benefit many of our workers and possibly scores of workers in other factories.

I find it of importance also to mention that the workers committee at the fur factory, besides looking after the interests of their workers, had also a separate group of activists, who from time to time were holding clandestine meetings during which we received reports about the developing political and military situation at the time. In 1943 by recommendation of the head of my working group I was accepted to become a member.

The next morning after receiving the go-ahead from the organizing committee, the work stoppage began. Immediately condemned by the production manager and instructors, the factory director tried desperately to persuade the workers to return to their tables and immediately stop this "Terrible madness". When his pleading was hitting a stone wall, the already quite irritated director contacted Rumkowski, informing him about the turmoil at his factory.

It took no more than a couple of hours until the news of Rumkowski's arrival began to spread like a wild fire.

Running like a young man from floor to floor and room to room, wielding his ever present cane, the "preses" was shouting on the top of his lungs. Like a mad man he kept on hitting anyone and anything standing in his way: "Not only will you be excluded from my project, but you will work by pulling barrels of excrement." Continuing screaming he repeated the same threats in room after room. Nervously questioning our strike he shouted, "Do you really know what you are doing?" And then in a hoarse voice he continued, "Do you really realize in what danger you are putting us?"

Nervously continuing his diatribe and this time as if talking to himself, he quietly said something which sounded as "if the Germans would find out what you are doing, we will all be doomed." Flanked by his fat body guard and another police officer, he demanded immediate return to work.

Realizing the gravity of the situation the committee decided to drop the intended strike. With Rumkowski's threat to keep us out entirely of the "home project" still ringing in our ears, resigned and disillusioned we all returned to our work place.

Seemingly happy with the outcome of Rumkowski's visit, our director was slowly walking in the direction of his office. While I was looking at his burly stature and his full and rosy cheeks, I could not help comparing his looks with the looks of my walking-past skeletal co-workers.

"What a contrast"...I could not help thinking.

During those hectic days, I had hardly enough time to think about my own physical condition. The boils on my body and especially on my neck were almost gone, but not my sleepless nights. This time the pain was replaced by a constant itching, a condition which kept bugging me during the day time and still did not let me sleep at night.

I was skinny and weak. My hopes to become a beneficiary of a week’s rest and better nourishment seemed to have been dashed for good.

But not as far as my "guardian angel" was concerned.

RUMKOWSKI'S RETURN TO THE FUR FACTORY

As it turned out, the tremendous risk we were taking by our short work stoppage was not in vain at all. Nobody knew then and we never really found out what or who influenced the preses to change his mind. Just a couple of days after our abortive strike, Rumkowski and his body guards arrived on the steps of the fur factory.

Without any previous announcement, he called on the director and together they quietly visited room after room, personally picking candidates for the seven days of summer vacation.

The director seemed like a casual onlooker, while the preses conversed with each potential candidate. Each approved worker gave his name and other necessary details to his body guard who kept filling out a list. This time Rumkowski was calm and in full control of the situation. He spoke quietly to everyone concerned and from time to time even flashed a smile.

The workers silently greeted the preses when he entered one large room after the other. Actually working or pretending to do so, they did not lift up their heads.

I was sitting by my machine pretending to do some work when I sensed the preses stopping just behind me. "Stand up", I heard his voice with that unmistakable Lithuanian Yiddish accent.

I stood up, turned around to face the "King of the Ghetto" and without lifting up my eyes I waited for further instructions. "What is your name, and how old are you?", I heard Rumkowski asking in a surprisingly pleasant tone. Still pretty confused I lifted up my eyes and looking straight into the eyes of this despised old man, I quietly and calmly answered all his questions.

When I told him that I was eighteen years old, Rumkowski who was quite a bit taller than I was bent down to come close to my ear and whispered: "You will be a good Jewish soldier."

When he told his assistant to write down my name on the precious list, I thought that I saw a sign of satisfaction on Rumkowski's serious but still a bit smiling face. On the other hand, perhaps it was just a figment of my imagination.

Again I took my place in front of the machine, and for a while remained sitting like in a daze. While Rumkowski continued his interviews I kept wondering what was really happening. "Was I simply lucky or was it again an act committed with the help of my imaginary "guardian angel." How could it possibly be normal for a known tyrant like Rumkowski to change so drastically? For a moment, while in front of me he truly looked like an angelic figure taken out from pictures of famous renaissance painters.

When he finally left the room, I became the centre of everybody’s attention. They all seemed to notice the preses whispering something into my ear and were anxious to find out what it was all about. When I told them exactly what had happened, word by word, they all seemed quite sceptical. It was hard for them to believe that those words could have come from the mouth of this heartless and ruthless Nazi collaborator.

I must admit that even to this day nobody whom I told about my encounter with Rumkowski and about our friendly short conversation, is inclined to believe what I actually experienced with the King of the Lodz Ghetto.

HISTORY WILL BE HIS FINAL JUDGE

There were different views and opinions about the person and character of Chaim Rumkowski. It is quite normal that every individual who spent years under Rumkowski's rule is rightfully judging the preses according to his or her personal experiences in the Lodz Ghetto.

I am quite sure that survivors who during the five years of existence of the Lodz Ghetto belonged to the chosen and privileged, consider Rumkowski a fair person. But entirely contrary views were and are expressed by the majority of survivors who went through the whole five years struggling constantly without help from anyone. The overall Ghetto population who suffered indescribable periods of hunger and cold who have lost most members of their families through starvation, all kinds of diseases and deportations, Rumkowski was the personification of evil, who was held partially responsible for all that had happened in the Lodz Ghetto.

There is no question that according to them Rumkowski deserved the death penalty, if he would have survived of course.

Fate however took care of that desired sentence. Rumkowski together with his young wife and all members of his immediate family perished in Auschwitz in the same way as thousands of innocent men, women and children perished after the final liquidation of the Lodz Ghetto in August of 1944.

Rumors were circulating in Auschwitz at the time that Rumkowski himself didn't receive the privilege of being gassed, and was apparently burned alive.

So many questions still remained unanswered: Was Rumkowski a willing participant in the German attempt to exterminate the Jewish people? Or was he really so naive or perhaps already a senile old man who believed the lies of his Nazi bosses? Or perhaps the most of many questions would be, that maybe, just maybe, Rumkowski was a clever old man, truly convinced that by pleasing the Nazi authorities, providing them with whatever they needed to protect their safe jobs, and avoid to be shipped to the Russian Front, he would be able to save as many Jews as possible.

So far there is no proof or a simple way to answer these difficult questions. It will probably involve many more years of research and work by psychiatrists, psychologists, and historians to find an answer.

However of what we do have proof is the fact that the Lodz Ghetto, considered to be the longest lasting Ghetto in all occupied Europe, had at the time of the final liquidation an estimated population of about seventy-seven thousand men, women and children.

MY PERSONAL THOUGHTS ABOUT RUMKOWSKI

From my experiences during as well as after the Holocaust I have learned that each individual had seen the Holocaust exclusively through his own experiences. The same formula of course can be applied to the survivors of the Lodz Ghetto. It is quite normal that the thousands of pre-war poor tailors and others whom Rumkowski appointed to lead the numerous factories have seen the Ghetto in general and Rumkowski in particular with different eyes than the average Ghetto dweller.

This also applies to the many highly privileged heads of various departments and other privileged positions which I had mentioned before. Therefore it is quite difficult to reach a unanimous opinion about the character and personality of the former head of the Lodz Ghetto.

As far as I am concerned there is no doubt in my mind that Rumkowski with all his faults had no evil intentions.

The responsibilities thrust (by sheer fate) on him were much too much for a man his age, especially for someone without any leadership experience. Without that experience he delegated highly responsible positions to irresponsible people. They were mostly former merchants or ranking members of different political parties whose main goal during the Ghetto years was to protect and save their own families. This of course they did mostly at the expense of the average ghetto dweller.

There is no question that there were times when I hated Rumkowski with the same passion as any other average Ghetto dweller. However I am far from ready to judge this highly complex personality. After all I am among the very few who had the privilege personally to experience his softer and perhaps human side.

To conclude I must add another, perhaps a bit too far-fetched thought, maybe, just maybe if the Red Army wouldn't have halted their advance toward Western Poland, Rumkowski might have been acclaimed the saviour of close to eighty thousand Jews of the Lodz Ghetto.

Unfortunately the Soviets decided to let the Germans first crush the Warsaw uprising, which gave the Nazis ample time to liquidate the Ghetto of Lodz.

So, in my opinion we will have to let the professionals come to a final conclusion and cast their final verdict.

CHAPTER 8

THE FINAL DAYS OF THE LODZ GHETTO

August 1944. Just a couple of weeks short of five years under the Nazi occupation. I was informed during a meeting of our factory committee that the Germans are already planning a final liquidation of the Lodz Ghetto, but for the time being to keep this terrible news even from our own families. We were also informed during the same meeting that the Soviet Red Army halted their forward incursion into Western Poland. It became clear to anyone present that this strategic move was more political than military. The communists apparently decided to wait until the Warsaw uprising and most of its fighters will be crushed by the overwhelmingly stronger German forces and pave the way for the Soviets to liberate Poland.

Moscow seemed to have lots of time. But by digging in on the east side of the Vistula, the Soviets provided the Nazis with ample time to liquidate our Ghetto. The tragic consequences of this unfortunate decision by the Soviets were at least over seventy thousand Jewish lives from the Lodz Ghetto alone.

For several days I managed to conceal this terrible piece of news from my brother and mother. But very soon it became common knowledge that the fate of the Lodz Ghetto was sealed.

The main provider of that news became no other than Hans Bibov himself. The Nazi head of the Ghetto administration started an intense campaign of deceit and lies during his constant visits from factory to factory and also by organizing street rallies.

In a obvious attempt to avoid another Ghetto uprising (like the Warsaw Ghetto uprising of 1943), he tried desperately to convince the already exhausted Ghetto population that there is nothing to worry about. "The Ghetto is just being relocated to another more convenient and much nicer place as you can see" he tried to act in a fatherly way, "we are doing it only for your own good .... after all you have been working for the Germans for the last five years, and helped our government in our War effort."... And, in an even more fatherly manner he quietly asked a sneaky question: "Do you really think that the Soviets will like that?" "They are going to kill you all," this time he was already shouting, and repeated that warning several times.

To help him in this effort, Bibov engaged his loyal assistant Chaim Rumkowski, who repeated these absurdities all over the Ghetto. Rumkowski even assured us that the Germans are transporting all the machinery and factory equipment ahead of us, so that everything will be ready in time for our arrival... this "promise" he kept repeating with full conviction as if he would indeed truly believe the Nazi lies.

In fact, very few, if any of the Ghetto dwellers believed in their promises, and at the beginning of the evacuation very few went voluntarily to the Marishin rail station. Eventually realizing that time is not on their side, the Nazis began putting on more pressure. Ever more German soldiers fully armed and helmeted, assisted by vicious dogs, became involved in searching hideouts and forcefully transporting people to the station.

The Jewish Ghetto administration with the hope that they are not going to be touched by this disaster and the entire Jewish Police Force became willing helpers to the Nazi effort to liquidate the Lodz Ghetto.

At the start of the final liquidation the number of Jews living in the Ghetto was at a long time low, probably around the seventy five thousand mark. Considering that on May the first of 1940 an estimated hundred and fifty thousand men, women and children entered the Ghetto and the tens of thousands of Jews from the surrounding areas which were brought in to the Ghetto during the five years of its existence, the numbers kept on swelling. With the additional arrival of thousands of Jews from Western Europe, including Germany and Austria, the number of Jews who perished in the Lodz Ghetto must have been much over two hundred thousand.

Those innocent people were victims of starvation, diseases, despicable sanitary conditions in their overcrowded dwellings and of constant deportation to death camps. Many of the incoming German Jews were already long time Christians and some of them were also former members of the Nazi Party. Their only crime must have been having a Jewish grandparent. Some of the younger men were detected as Jews while serving in the German army and many of the youngsters were members of the "Hitler youth." There was no wonder that this wave of German Jews had special difficulties in adopting to the Ghetto life and perished in the thousands.

The liquidation of the Ghetto was being conducted in a way planned by Mr. Bibov and his helpers.

Much too weak and exhausted to resist and obviously having no other choice, masses of Jews carrying heavy suitcases and bags with their meager belongings on their shoulders kept on walking in the direction of the rail station. There were already dozens of cattle wagons ready and waiting to swallow them. While many were taking the route voluntarily, others were escorted by armed soldiers after being taken out from their temporary hiding places.

Being aware of the existence of death camps, a neighbour of ours, who was a member of a special police unit, invited the three of us to share a hiding place with his family. We spent our days in this long abandoned dwelling in an already unpopulated Ghetto area and returned home for the nights. The actual evacuation was conducted mostly during daytime.

We somehow managed to avoid detection for a short period of time, but after several days of hiding we noticed some activity in the vicinity of our hiding place which made us change our plans.

Running from one hiding place to another it was not too much of a strain for my brother and myself, but for my Mother and the others who also had with them a little baby, it was impossible to continue. On the ninth or tenth day of feeling like hunted animals, our neighbour who took good care of us during the terrible ordeal sadly informed us that our hiding from the Nazis is all in vain. With a visible effort to calm us down by promising that no harm of any kind is awaiting us. he reaffirmed the rumors that Rumkowski himself with his wife and relatives is also getting ready for departure.

At the same time I was also quite aware about the places where the Nazis are deporting Jews. But we had apparently no other choice than the route forced on the last remnants of the once large and vibrant Jewish population of Lodz.

All I have heard and learned about those places of death, I kept to myself and as if preparing for a normal change of living quarters, I helped Mother pack necessary household items for our imminent departure.

ON THE WAY TO THE RAIL STATION

Glad that Mother listened to my advice not to take too big a load, with the promise that as soon as we are going to start working again, we will buy whatever we will need, we carried much less luggage than the allowed by the Germans fifteen kilo limit per person.

Others however did what people usually do during moves to new places: They overloaded themselves without considering the size or weight of the luggage. The result of such behavior was disastrous. The streets and roads were littered with abandoned bags and suitcases left by people who could hardly walk without heavy loads on their shoulders.

My brother and I were exceptionally calm and in full control of ourselves while turning the key to lock the door of our one room apartment. We closed forever the place where we were born and spent our childhood. No matter how many years of poverty we experienced in this place, we had nevertheless lots of good and happy times. Those happy times together with my parents and brothers were mostly on my mind while closing our door. In sharp contrast to my eternal optimism, I was somehow convinced at that time that we are leaving this place forever.

Our dear Mother however, was not able to control her emotions. Hugging and kissing us both at the same time she whispered some unrecognizable prayer while tears were streaming down her sad but still beautiful face.

The monetary value of what we had left inside the apartment was of little importance. But the sentimental value was priceless. Especially the photo albums full of family pictures and other mementos.

Through her tears and hardly able to talk, Mother assured us that with God's help we will soon return to our home where we will continue to lead a normal life together with our Father and brothers. This optimistic assurance she repeated several times while walking down the stairs into the street. Without looking back we walked slowly to the Franciskanska Street from where we took the Brzezinska on our way to the Marishin Station.

Since those were already the final days of the evacuation most warehouses and food depots were left open. So, many people over estimating their strength, looted those places and carried heavy bags of potatoes and other produce on their shoulders. Not being physically able to carry such heavy loads, they were forced to discard their precious cargo on the streets and roads of the soon to be abandoned Ghetto.

So, only a short while ago priceless food items were littering the Ghetto streets together with loads of pillows, comforters, linens, and other household items.

All this was forming a clear picture of the tragedy of the being evacuated Ghetto Jews and of the once vibrant Jewish population of Lodz in general.

As we came closer to the waiting trains, the streets became ever more crowded with ever slower walking people. The struggle for survival was especially visible on children eight or ten years old who were still carrying heavy loads on their tiny shoulders. Apparently they were convinced that by bringing with them any kind of food supplies, they will help their families during their relocation.

Besides the unlocked warehouses there was an additional source to obtain freely some fresh produce. For the last two or three years, whoever was able and willing to erect for himself a small vegetable garden could receive, by presenting the families’ ration cards, a small parcel of land for that purpose. Many people who had a bit of "Protekcja" were granted some clean and almost ready to plant parcels of land. The vast majority however, received pieces of abandoned streets and alleys which through extremely hard labour were turned into parcels of ground and eventually into vegetable gardens.

My brother and I had received such a paved plot at a corner of an abandoned street, and after several months of indescribably hard labour we started to witness the fruit of our labor. Just before the evacuation we had visited our garden and admired the beautiful cucumbers, carrots, beats, and some green salads which were almost ripe.

Those precious little gardens that were supposed to supplement our meager food rations were now being looted and trampled on by desperate youngsters on their way to the train station.

Trying hard not to abandon my eternal optimism I was nevertheless very worried about my Mother’s fate. She was already fifty-three years old at the time, frail and perhaps a bit too skinny, my heart was aching for her. Because of my awareness about the existence of extermination camps, my heart was also aching for those hundreds of food carrying youngsters the small children and the elderly among us.

I was walking side by side with my Mother and brother without uttering a single word to each other. Each one of us apparently engulfed in one’s own thoughts.

No matter how much she tried to pretend, my Mother did not handle very well the first phase of our upcoming long journey. Just the thought of losing our dear Mother seemed to eradicate my ever present optimism. The luggage she was carrying was too much for her to handle, but she vigorously protested when my brother and I offered the slightest hint of help.

Before approaching the train station, Mother was talking again about her husband and two sons in Russia, again expressing her hope of a reunion with her loved ones. When we finally saw from a short distance a long winding train of dozens of cattle wagons I became fully aware of the gravity of the situation.

Hundreds of men, women and children were walking in front of us and many hundreds behind us. The weak and disabled were tenderly being helped by family members and friends. The elderly were slowly and with visible difficulty dragging their tired legs toward the waiting train.

IN FRONT OF THE CATTLE WAGONS

With little strength left in their exhausted bodies and only with pure determination many of the evacuees were still clinging to their remaining possessions. Many old suitcases were tied up with heavy string to avoid any loss of their precious belongings. Others had managed to carry all the way their heavy bags with all kinds of household items and bedding. They all apparently felt that in the new place all this will be badly needed.

The ramp in front of the train was crowded to its full capacity and the general chaos was indescribable. Children were holding on tightly to their parents while others were shouting at their youngsters to stay together with their siblings. Friends were sticking together with friends in order to continue to be together at the new place ... neighbours hoped to be neighbours again and they promised each other to do their best to stay together. The Germans on their part continued their deceptive tactics and did their utmost to prevent any sort of disturbances or the slightest attempt of physical resistance. Apparently the experience of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising and of the present uprising by the population of Warsaw, were now of great help to them.

The hundreds of armed troops which were all over the place were exceptionally polite, and even more so were the higher ranking officers. Some people were asking questions to which they replied without the usual shouting. When my Mother asked an officer if families are going to stay together, the Nazi answered with a bright smile on his fat face: "Natuerlich Liebe Frau" (Naturally, of course dear lady).

Although I knew very well, that all this politeness was just a sleazy put-on act, I nevertheless wanted to think that perhaps, just perhaps something did change. After all the Nazis must have realized by now that they lost the war. However the fact that the Ghetto is being evacuated at a time when the Red Army was already near Warsaw, was not very encouraging.

Deceptively, loud speakers were urging the assembled crowd to take all their possessions with them into the wagons: "Please ladies and gentlemen, don't forget anything," the Nazi officers kept on dispensing advice to the confused evacuees. Before entering the cattle wagons each one of us, even small children, was handed a full loaf of fresh bread. This gesture was probably also done to show the Nazi sincerity.

There is no doubt that the monstrous plan of deception by Hans Bibov and his helpers was working brilliantly. Not only did nobody show the slightest sign of resistance, but people were entering the cattle wagons voluntarily, many with full hope for a brighter future.

Although I was one of the few who was aware of where those wagons may take us, I nevertheless entered the wagon with a little bit of hope. I was too much of an optimist to give up too easily. I still hoped that whatever was going to happen my Mother and my twin brother and myself might have a chance to survive.

In a matter of minutes our wagon was filled up much over its capacity. Most space on the wagon floor was taken up by literally mountains of luggage on top of which families were rapidly settling their youngsters who were holding on to each other. Cries of children and shouting by their desperate parents who did their utmost to keep their youngsters near them suddenly turned into a deafening silence. The terrible sound of slamming shut the wagon doors added to by shouting orders of Nazi officers to their troops, and the horrible feeling of being shut in, gave us a sudden sense of reality.

Our wagon was so over-crowded that we could hardly find a little space for the two empty buckets, which were supposed to replace a toilette for an estimated seventy and perhaps even more men, women and children. The hot August sun kept heating up our wagon to an unbearable degree, and pretty soon the two buckets were filled up with human refuse causing a horrible stench already mixed with human sweat. The little bit of fresh air which managed to steal itself through the little barred window was not enough to give even the slightest bit of relief.

While my Mother was squeezed in between a group of our neigbours, I did my best to find a place near the little window and from time to time managed a look outside with the hope that perhaps some good samaritan will take a chance to throw in something to ease the already unbearable hunger and thirst.

After the second day there was very little left of the loaf of bread which we received before boarding and a little bit of water which we managed to bring in, was gone completely. The nights however were much easier to endure because of two reasons; first of all there was no sun to heat up the roof of our closed up wagon and secondly, because the train for some reason or other was moving pretty fast and with it more cool air was able to come through the one and only tiny window.

It is very hard for me to recall exactly how long we were travelling until we reached our destination mainly because during the daytime the train was hardly moving. For hours we used to stand at some small stations as if the Germans had designed a special system how to torture those innocent men, women and children. During the nights most of these exhausted and by the stench intoxicated human souls, fell into a deep sleep the moment night arrived. Being awake I could from time to time get a glimpse at some faces of those sleeping people. They seemed to me then peaceful and relaxed, as if they would dream of better days together with their families.

Next to me my brother was also engulfed in a deep sleep. My thoughts were full of contradictions: Perhaps if I wouldn't be aware of places like Chelmno, Auschwitz, and other death camps, I would have been much better off. At the time however we had already travelled about two days which made it certain that we had already passed Chelmno and might be going in the direction of Auschwitz.

So, what about the promises by Bibov and his helpers about resettlement? How could anybody possibly believe in such promises after experiencing years of numerous deportations, especially the great Sperre of 1942 when over twenty thousand Ghetto dwellers in a most brutal way were shipped to death camps.

During the second day of travelling we stopped near a small station in Czechoslovakia where the man who was chosen to be the head of our wagon managed to stick out his hands through the little window and collected a bit of small food items handed to him by generous and good hearted Czech people. I must add that during the first day when our wagon was having several stops on Polish soil, not once such a generous human act occurred. The little precious food obtained at a few other stations on Czech soil was evenly distributed among all people in the wagon.

Needless to say that the extended travelling time (due to constant stoppages) and terrible heat, made our situation totally unbearable. Children became more restless and babies kept on crying. Many were vomiting while their Mothers who were sick themselves were doing their very best to comfort them. Some of the elderly also became sick. The man in charge with some of his assistants did an outstanding job in helping the sick and comforting the others by telling some stories and even jokes.

I really admired the behavior of most of the people inside our wagon during those treacherous days. After what those people went through in the last five years they seemed still strong, if not in body, at least in character to behave the way they did. Even the few families who were still intact, had already lost scores of relatives. But there were among us many single people who were already the only survivors of large extended families.

Amid this horrible mess, I noticed a couple of men with visibly great difficulties, somehow managed to put on the Talith, and Tefilin, and performing their morning prayer. So, the Nazi goal to dehumanize our people did so far not succeed.

The horrible situation in this closed-up hell, in form of a cattle wagon, was turning from bad to worse. I don't really know how many nights we were locked into this place, but after the third night nobody except the very small children, were able to sleep. The stickiness and the unbearable stench plus the worries about our fate kept most of us awake.

The longer the misery in our wagon lasted, the more people especially children and the elderly became ill. I of course, was mostly concerned with the well being of my poor Mother. She was not a youngster any more and her health, although she never really complained, was not as good as she would have liked us to believe. During these few agonizing days Mother had shown an unusual degree of determination and perseverance, which helped her come through this merciless voyage in pretty good shape.

As I said, it is hard for me to determine the exact time we were locked inside this cattle wagon. Nobody seemed to care anymore about our future fate. Our only concern at the moment was to get out of this hellish place.

AUSCHWITZ-BIRKENAU

It was a bright sunny and warm morning when our train began to slow down while approaching its final destination. I still had my priceless spot near the little window, and a chance for a glimpse into the outside world.

Several people in grey, blue striped prison garb were already doing some work on the rail tracks just parallel to our train. Besides their shabbily looking uniforms I noticed their wooden shoes which some of them had covered with dirty rags.

While none of them seemed to openly look at our wagon, one who stood the closest to the train, talked to us without lifting his head up in the direction of our little window: "You are approaching Auschwitz," he was talking like to himself. And then he followed with some peculiar questions: "Are there many children with you?" and again quietly he was asking if there are elderly people with us. And without waiting for an answer, the young unshaven and terrible looking young man moved on to do his job, whatever it was he was doing before.

While our train kept on moving in the direction of the camp several other of these working men kept asking the same questions without directly looking at us. After one of them quietly said, "May God be with you", we received a clear picture of the gravity of our situation. A little further away from this prisoner, I noticed a much cleaner looking inmate probably one of the supervisors who didn't seem or didn't care what his men were telling us.

I managed a glimpse at my brothers face. His eyes seemed wet with tears as he looked back at me. Apparently we both had the same thoughts on our minds. We automatically turned our heads in the direction of our Mother who was just awaking from a few hours of sleep.

"May God help us", I whispered to my brother while also looking at the excited men, women and children in our wagon, who were yet unaware of what fate was awaiting them, while we apparently are entering the largest factory of death ever known to mankind .

Although I had personally experienced some help from some unexplainable source, I must say that it is very difficult after five years in the Lodz Ghetto to believe in miracles. Even people who had spent their lives in praising the Lord and praying three times daily perished from starvation, diseases and in gas chambers with God's name on their lips. Hundreds of thousands of innocent children had perished the same way, and no miracles occurred. "So how could we possibly expect any miracles now?", I thought. I also thought at the moment about us being God's chosen people ... and I asked a relevant question, "Were we really chosen to become sacrificial lambs in this horrible place."

ARBEIT MACHT FREI (WORK MAKES YOU FREE)

In sharp contrast to the masterfully staged departure from the Lodz Ghetto, the reception we received on our arrival at Auschwitz-Birkenau was an indescribable and unforgettable picture of horror.

At the moment the wagon doors slammed open, the last hopes of so many desperately clinging to life human beings, collapsed in waves of shouting, pushing, and indiscriminate beatings, by stick wielding special commandos. The same Nazi officers and troops who showed so much politeness and false understanding when we boarded the wagons in Lodz, suddenly turned into wild animals, shoving and hitting young as well as old, with a viciousness no normal human being would be able to comprehend.

While performing their unholy duty in the name of the special chosen German Nation, they were shouting obscenities, and cursing the Verfluchte Juden (The dammed Jews). "Raus, raus-shnell, shnell", (Fast, fast, out, out). They also shouted to the scared and confused human beings to leave all their belongings inside the wagons, not to touch anything. The special commandos of Jewish prisoners were doing the job of pulling the people out of the wagons, while soldiers with their constantly barking vicious specially trained dogs, surrounded the whole area.

Many of the forcefully removed people from the wagons, especially the elderly and the sick were dropping to the ground. Many of them were already lying with blood gushing from different parts of their bodies. Mothers with infants in their arms received the same treatment while most had their babies pulled from them and thrown to the ground. While the desperately screaming Mothers were trying to pick up their infants, they were mercilessly beaten by the heartless commandos and kicked by the vicious soldiers with their heavy leather boots.

The cries of children and the desperate pleadings by their helpless Mothers, while the Fathers were already being shoved over to form a men’s line. The painful cries and groans of the elderly and sick were drowned by loud music coming through loudspeakers from different directions.

A bright sun was shining on us, coming down from a clear blue sky. But it did not seem in any way to warm those masses of suffering men, women, and children. There seemed no help from anywhere. Not even when infants were forcefully being pulled from the arms of their desperately pleading and wailing helpless Mothers.

When finally two separate lines of hundreds of already resigned men and women had been formed, a high ranking Nazi officer appeared in front of us to start his selection. With a simple move of his right hand thumb this Nazi monster made a quick decision of whether you should live or die. And even while this executioner was performing the job of the devil, and while the walking towards him men were silently praying and pleading for God's help, the sun kept on shining.

The music coming from the loud speakers seemed ever louder while the overwhelming majority of the men were being selected in the direction of the getting ready for them gas chambers. Only a small percentage were lucky enough to get a temporary reprieve, a chance to live a little longer.

The unbearable loud music kept on playing while the hundreds of men were moving almost unsupervised but already fully aware of what gruesome fate awaits them.

Amid the indescribable situation before and during the selection, many families managed a fast hug and some tearful kisses with their loved ones. Those who did not manage to embrace each other were doing it from a distance.

My brother and I were fortunately among the small group of the lucky ones. We were also fortunate enough, before we were separated to embrace and kiss our Mother, while promising her that everything will be fine and assuring her that she looked good enough to pass the selection. During these few seconds, my dear Mother managed a smile but tears were streaming down her lovely face. She still waved to us while being pushed into the line of waiting women.

As if an especially arranged way of Nazi torture, the women were the first to go through the procedure of being selected. This way the Fathers, husbands, sons and brothers were forced to watch as their beloved Mothers, wives, and siblings are being mentally and physically abused by a sadistical Nazi officer whose biggest pleasure seemed to be forcefully pulling some of the remaining babies from their Mothers arms.

What we were really forced to witness is impossible to describe. The horrible scenes unveiled in front of our eyes were heart breaking. The crying, pleading, and screaming of small scared to death girls, being forcefully separated from their Mothers, must have been heard somewhere behind the blue skies above.

The most gruesome scenes were with no doubt, when desperate young Mothers were resisting and struggling with all their remaining strength to keep their infants close to their chests. Still with their infants in their arms, they were shoved into the groups of hundreds of women walking in the direction of the gas chambers.

While very few young women had to give up their babies, and join the ones chosen to live, many refused to give up and were ordered to join the overwhelming majority destined to perish. One of those resisters was my Mother’s younger sister, Rivka. I noticed her in line a few steps ahead of my Mother. She was young and pretty, so the selection officer ordered one his troopers to take her two year old only son from her arms. Rivka resisted with all her might, and even with the intervention of another Nazi, they were unable to pull the baby from her arms.

Proudly, but with a broken heart, I watched how my dear aunt was shoved into the masses of condemned ones, clutching her beloved son to her chest. I followed her with my eyes for several more seconds and noticed her constantly kissing my little cousin’s face. But the sun kept on shining ... under the circumstances an almost obscene happening.

I was still looking in her direction when a push by my brother brought me back to reality. This time in front of the Nazi selector stood my dear Mother. Her tall and slim figure, dressed in a beige trench coat which my Father bought her before Passover of 1939. We could not see her face, but I tried to press a bit forward in order to get a better view of what's going to happen. It seemed that the Nazi was talking to her, perhaps asking some questions. I whispered a silent prayer. The Nazis thumb turned in the right direction. Slowly but seemingly relieved, Mother joined the small group of the chosen ones.

Needless to describe how my brother and I felt at that fateful moment. A feeling of seldom experienced euphoria overwhelmed both of us. My prayers seemed to be answered. As far as I was concerned, I felt quite sure that my brother and I are going to pass the selection. Why I really assumed that we will pass, it's hard for me to explain. Perhaps it had to do with my optimistic nature.

My brother who was in front of me passed first without the slightest problem, and then without even looking into my face the officer’s thumb pointed me in the direction of the small group of young men and teenagers gathered a short distance on the right side of him.

While capos and Nazi troopers were busy transforming our group into some sort of military formation, I managed a glimpse to the left, where masses of condemned men, women and children were being shoved and even physically abused by armed troopers and led in the direction of the death camp.

The selection officer was still busy performing his devilish job with obvious monstrous pleasure. Ever more condemned people were crowding the grounds on which they were being herded like sheep to the slaughter. While we were already standing in formation, those innocent poor souls were slowly moving in complete disarray and total chaos.

From afar I was looking for familiar faces, for relatives, friends, and neigbours. I managed somehow although in a short glimpse pinpoint some of them. I noticed an uncle, another aunt walking with their youngsters. Frail faces of close neighbours and even some of old school friends were also visible from far away. They seemed like in a daze and as if not realizing what's going on around them. Some elderly people were assisted by younger ones and the disabled were being carried or perhaps forced to do that by younger men.

Amid all that commotion, I was surprised to notice several Ghetto policemen among the ever more swelling mass of condemned. Ironically they were still wearing their policemen’s caps.

Although I was pretty far away from this horrible place, I was able to notice many young men and women among those unfortunate souls. Since many of those young men were bigger and seemingly stronger than I was, it was easy to conclude that to be selected with a chance to temporarily go on living, was just a matter of pure luck. In strict military formation we were already walking into the camp of Birkenau. We were escorted by armed troopers and several capos who eagerly seemed to please their Nazi bosses by shouting on the top of their lungs orders in the German language mixed with all kinds of obscenities.

And the sky was still blue with a bright and shiny sun.

ON THE WAY TO THE BATH HOUSE

While the vast majority of our transport from the Lodz Ghetto, many perhaps still unaware of their fate, were walking towards their physical destruction, two small separate groups of men and women, were approaching the bathhouse of Birkenau. It was quite obvious that these small groups of approximately two hundred each, were being chosen to be kept alive. However the question remained: for what purpose and for how long?

Although with a terribly heavy heart caused by the horrors we experienced during the past several hours, I felt guilty for feeling happy that all the three of us, my Mother, brother and myself were among the small groups of chosen ones.

The red brick bath house, if I remember correctly stood on the right side of a large plaza. The one floor structure was built in an "L" shape.

While the first men of our group started to enter and others followed slowly, I suddenly heard from afar my Mother’s voice. Instinctively I turned in the direction from where the sound came. In front of the smaller part of the "L" shaped building, the apparent bath house exit I noticed an ambulance guarded by several armed soldiers. Shocked when I heard again my Mother’s crying voice, my brother and I moved a few steps back from the bath entrance in order to see what was happening.

In sheer horror we saw about a dozen naked young women being shoved into the wide open ambulance doors. Among them was my hysterically crying Mother and one of our young cousins. Noticing us from a distance of about thirty metres, my Mother kept crying out in our direction. In spite of being brutally handled by one of the guards, she managed to call in our direction in Yiddish: "Dear Yomile, my crown, I am too skinny, we won't see each other again", and while almost half inside the ambulance she screamed out, "Dear children, stay together."

Heart broken, disappointed and totally resigned, being already the last of the group being shoved into the bath house by a big fat German in civilian clothing, we could clearly hear the sound of the speeding away ambulance.

After only a short time of illusory happiness, our hopes of still having our dear Mother alive suddenly disappeared together with the speeding away Nazi ambulance. The irony again seemed to be the red cross which was painted on top of that vehicle. Ambulances which normally carried sick people to places where their lives were being saved, the murderous Nazis were using them to transport many of their victims to the gas chambers.

And the sun over Auschwitz kept on shining ...

A SECOND SELECTION INSIDE THE BATH HOUSE

We were ordered to undress and wait in a large sort of lobby which led into the showers. We entered into a small room which soon became quite crowded. Several capos inside kept on shouting obscenities in our direction and even abusing some of us physically. Suddenly a deadly silence engulfed this overcrowded place. Without any previous warning the high ranking officer who conducted the main selections was suddenly standing in front of us. Slowly without uttering a single word, this cold blooded Nazi was moving around us performing another sort of selection. This time he was walking between the group of horrified already once selected, sadistically picking additional victims.

Apparently the first selection didn't yield the full quota for gas chambers and an additional number of victims had to be chosen. This of course explained the horrible tragedy which happened just a short while before with my Mother and the other group of unfortunate women with her.

The Nazi monster was again at his job. Every new victim was ordered to stand at the wall next to the exit door. The purpose of this terrible act became obvious to everyone present, although the men who were being selected seemed oblivious of what was happening to them.

The rest of us were just waiting helplessly for our turn. Suddenly I saw the Nazi officer asking something from my brother. He apparently noticed a little scar on his left side chest, so he obviously tried to examine the scar with one of his fingers. Satisfied that the wound was completely healed, he left him alone and continued looking for other victims. Cool and still confident I noticed the monster moving in my direction. While he stopped in front of me he asked or rather barked out a question: "How old are you?" I really don't recall if he paid attention to my reply, but he swiftly moved away talking to somebody else.

What I felt a moment after was my brother squeezing my right hand in a clear expression of happiness and love. Seemingly quite satisfied, the Nazi officer left the bath house followed by about fifteen new victims guarded by a couple of armed Nazi troopers. Remembering the scene when my Mother was taken out from the bath house, I was not able to lift my head and look in the direction of these downgraded and humiliated naked young men.

As I learned later this high ranking Nazi officer was none other than the infamous Nazi monster Dr. Mengele. Apparently still not satisfied enough with sending thousands of innocent men, women and children to the gas chambers, he seemingly felt obligated from time to time to conduct a second selection. This act of a sadistic orgy probably gave this so called doctor special pleasure.

People who were not there might ask, and rightly so, "Why did these young men go to their death without resistance of any kind?" But after truly accessing the situation, some people perhaps might feel some understanding, but many I am sure will remain skeptical. So let me express my thoughts about those tragic days. After our arrival at Birkenau, the chaos, shock and panic, with the forceful dividing of families, were enough to paralize a person physically and mentally. To this state of mind came the gruesome process of selecting and choosing human beings who were fully aware where they were heading. But the most tragic were the scenes and the unforgettable sites when our loved ones and the hundreds of other victims were being herded like sheep to the slaughter house.

All this was happening after five years struggling in the Lodz Ghetto, was surely enough to create people incapable of anything more than passivity. By the end however, those men who were selected again in the bath house were not passive at all. Knowing very well that fully armed Nazi troopers are all over the place, they realized that physical resistance was impossible. They were also fully aware that the slightest attempt of physical resistance would definitely cause the elimination of all of us.

So, they must have instinctively decided to show Dr. Mengele that although he possesses the power to take their lives, he is unable to provoke them to lend him a hand and an excuse to kill of us. Not giving the Nazi monster the pleasure of seeing them dehumanized not even one of them was crying or pleading with him to be spared. They seemed to walk out from the bath house with their heads high, without giving the Nazi troopers who were escorting them an additional feeling of superiority. Under the circumstances I consider this an act of passive resistance.

Before entering the shower room the remaining group of young men had every hair on their bodies shaved off. We were ordered to hold on to our shoes only. One of the attendants noticed a small picture of my Mother in one of my hands, grabbed it from me and brutally hit me in the face. To my dismay he tore the picture into small pieces, which hurt me more than my partially swollen face. The same fate met a bunch of drawings which just a few hours before I tried to salvage at the rail ramp after our arrival from the Lodz Ghetto.

After the showers we received some clothing and after getting dressed, we were led into the so called "Gypsy Camp" in Birkenau. After going through some sort of registration, our group of several hundred young men and teenagers were assigned, if my memory serves me right, to block eighteen. Being aware of the danger of being twins, although we were not really identical, we nevertheless decided to register with different birth dates.

TADEK, OUR BLOCK ELDEST

Birkenau consisted of dozens of structures, apparently former stables which served a Polish cavalry regiment stationed there before the outbreak of W.W.2.

The roads and alleys between those so called barracks were covered with gravel, and in spite of the still persisting hot summer days , the grounds were quite muddy and treacherous. On the way to the barracks I noticed several wooden dwellings which had signs, "latrine", but I soon learned we could only visit those places with the permission of the block elders. It turned out that from that moment on you could not do anything without the permission of this new master of our destiny. And our master turned out to be a young Polish criminal, a vicious anti-semite by the name of Tadek.

Tadek welcomed us to his domain with a wielding cane, hitting indiscriminately over the heads at whoever was unfortunate to be close to him. His vocabulary consisted of the worst obscenities in the Polish language, or any other language for that matter. He was constantly shouting and cursing, especially at the older ones of our group. In his distorted mind men in their late twenties or in their early thirties, were already considered old. Especially if they were Jewish. Besides hitting them viciously, he kept shouting at them to make them aware that they are already too old to live, and that eventually they will also be put into the "ovens." Tadek’s special pleasure was ordering us to look at the smoking chimneys to see, "How your loved ones are being fried."

The barrack was empty of any sort of furniture, just four walls and bare concrete floor. Since several hundred of inmates were already living in this place, prior to our arrival, the barrack became extremely overcrowded. Sleeping on the bare floor outstretched was out of the question, so we had to sit one inside the other’s lap in order to find a spot on the floor.

After an extremely chaotic short while, we finally settled down and ordered not to get up before receiving permission from our new boss.

Tadek in the meantime was beating up several "old men", and announced with his vicious sadistic smile, that there will be no food this evening. And with great pleasure, he also let us know that to visit a latrine, "You will also have to wait till tomorrow morning, you dirty Jewish bastards."

Exhausted physically and mentally I fell asleep in my brothers lap, squeezed from all sides by others.

Loud shouts with lots of obscene cursing by our block elders woke us up. Literally running over our heads and bodies, like a let loose wild animal, Tadek was wielding his cane in all directions. "Get up, you bastards"..."Get up, you sons of bitches dirty Jews." Many of us were bleeding, mostly from head wounds. While we were struggling to get up , Tadek ordered us to assemble in front of the barrack. After we finally reached the outside, we had to form a triple line with the help of a couple self appointed helpers to the block elders. In front of the line, Tadek was busy distributing chunks of fresh bread and some sort of a bitter fluid.

The morning was exceptionally beautiful, without a sign of a cloud in the sky. It was very early, but already quite sticky. With his sadistic smile on his face, Tadek ordered us to inhale the polluted air: "This stinking air is caused by your burning relatives," and seemingly amused by his funny joke he added, "the ovens were busy all night."

Many of us were already eagerly consuming our breakfast. Even this routine procedure, was used by Tadek as a calculated torture weapon. Especially against the more mature inmates among us. To those Tadek considered old, he refused to give their slice of bread and instead handed it to a standing nearby youngster. At the time next to me or in front of me, I noticed our next door nieghbour, Motel, who must have been at the time twenty-four years old being pushed away by Tadek who refused to give him his bread ration. Instead Tadek handed it to me, with a warning that if I would give the bread to the "old man" he will kill me.

To me it was heart-breaking to look at Motel’s pale face during this sadistic spectacle. However his sad face lit up when I whispered to him that I will save and keep his portion and at an opportune moment, give it to him. This moment finally arrived when an hour later we were permitted to visit the latrine. The poor man eagerly consumed his bread inside this terribly smelling dirty place, but far from the eyes of our "benevolent bread giver."

After finishing our breakfast, we received permission to sit outside but only close to our barrack. With broken heart I sat next to our brother, whose eyes were filled with tears, talking quietly about the suffering Mother must have gone through? Deep in my heart I was already glad that her sufferings are finally over. Without uttering a single word, we continued our much needed rest. Before we were called by Tadek to gather in front of the barrack entrance, my brother whispered into my ear: "Perhaps we should rejoice that our Mother is finally liberated."

Full of hate against anybody who causes suffering to innocent men, women and children, and full of hate for the Tadeks of this world, who made our lives miserable for as long as I can remember, I recalled a Polish patriotic song, which stated, that "Those who will survive will be free and those who die are already free." Physically and mentally devastated, I somehow didn't care much about my own fate. After all that happened to me so far could not possibly get any worse. To say that I should leave everything in God's hands, was at the time out of the question. The same as everybody else in my predicament ceased believing in a merciful God, I also became quite skeptical. However the fact that my brother and I managed to go through all the selections, untouched, I could not possibly totally dismiss some help from above.

I still felt miserably tortured. The terrible pictures at the ramp after our arrival, the gruesome scenes during the selections, the scared faces of the condemned men, women and children and especially the crying and pleading of the little children still remains steadfast on my mind. The heroic scenes of distressed Mothers forcefully resisting to hand over their babies will remain on my mind for the rest of my life.

And so will, of course, my Mother’s last goodbye.

"What's next?" I truly didn't care. New transports kept on arriving daily. We however saw only small groups being led into barracks, but the overwhelming majority of those new arrivals have already been sent to the gas chambers.

On the next morning after our arrival, we began going through new horrifying daily ordeals. Representatives of various German enterprises like ammunition factories, construction firms, etc., who were hand picking young and fit men for slave labour. After going through an official registration, we had to fully undress and jog in front of those big fat Nazi entrepreneurs who with the help of so called doctors selected their slaves.

Understandably those slave merchants picked the tallest and strongest among us, so it took my brother and myself a full week of those torturous spectacles until we were finally selected.

At the time of course, we were completely in the dark of where we were going and to what type of work. But we were glad that those torturous days came to an end. The worst part of those days were the standing under a burning sun for hours without food or water until we were finally led back to the barrack. The same routine, as I said before was repeated for at least seven days.

Since we returned to the barracks just before night fall, our daily soup was already being sent back by our block eldest, or waiting for us completely cold.

Besides the daily physical and mental torture we were forced to listen to Tadek’s vulgar speeches during which he graphically described how the "bastard Jews" are being killed off and how lucky we are to be leaving Auschwitz alive.

Tadek’s favorite victims besides Jews were Gypsys. "These f.... bastards" he announced with a sort of pleasure, "weren't gassed, they were all burned alive."

Tadek also seemed to have special pleasure by telling us that the gas chambers of Auschwitz were recently terribly busy absorbing the entire Jewish population of Hungary. "Those dirty bastards Magyars charred bodies smelled even worse than your relatives," he added with a ghastly smile on his ugly face.

So, we had to live under this monster’s supervision for a whole week. Although normally a relatively short period of time, he managed to turn it into an eternity. This short time has taught us more about cruelty than perhaps months or even years in the Lodz Ghetto. Among all Tadek’s prescribed tortures, the worst one, I think was keeping us from visiting the latrines when badly needed.

This vicious pathological Jew hater, himself an inmate for an unknown reason was our master, free to torture us in any way he pleased, even kill any Jew without being reprimanded.

So, our only hope and our prayers were directed towards the good will of the slave dealers who had the only power to bring us out of this God forsaken place.

Finally this eagerly awaited moment arrived. My brother and I were picked, if my memory serves me well, on the sixth day of our stay in Birkenau. On the seventh day we were told to report to the bath house for a final check up and showers.

Although we did not know where we were heading to, we were relieved and happy just by the prospect of getting out of Auschwitz.

LEAVING AUSCHWITZ-BIRKENAU

Exhausted, tired, hungry and thirsty but nevertheless happily excited, my brother and I were walking back to our barrack after finally being selected and told that soon we were going to leave Auschwitz. It didn't matter to us where we were going to be transported to, and no matter how hard we will have to work. However at the moment, no matter how odd it may sound I was only thinking about a little bit of space where I would be able to sleep fully stretched out. As far as food and water was concerned I knew somehow that it could not get worse than it already was until then. While walking absorbed in my thoughts I heard some men laughing loud and talking in Polish just behind us. I hardly at first paid attention to what they were talking about, until I heard one of them ordering another to kick those dirty Jews in their asses ... In a fracture of a moment I felt an excruciating pain in my right hand. (I had a habit since my childhood to walk while holding my hands behind my back.) My brother and I automatically stepped aside and watched three or four capos, obviously enjoying themselves, laughing even more loudly than before passing us by as if nothing had happened.

The top of my right hand was terribly bleeding with a part of the skin being rubbed off. If this incident would have occurred a day before, my chances of leaving Auschwitz would have been next to nil. In the meantime I had to hide my injury from Tadek and from others, by holding my hand constantly in my pockets. On my evening visit to the latrine I managed to partially clean up the wound and finally stop the bleeding.

That night I did not sleep at all. Very early on the next morning, when the sun was not out yet we, a large group chosen a day before, were ordered to assemble in front of the barrack from where we were led in the direction of the bath house.

This was the last time I slept under Tadek’s supervision, and the last time to be forced to look at the face of this vicious man who even as an inmate at a death camp continued the ugly tradition of the pre-war vicious anti-semitic segment of the Polish population.

As we reached the plaza in front of the bath house, the place was already crowded with hundreds of inmates. They were all sitting on the ground tightly close to each other waiting for their turn to be called in the already busy shower rooms. Unfortunately our group of about sixty young men and teenagers found a place on the far end of the huge field which was surrounded by dozens of armed soldiers. We were ordered to remove our caps, one of the Nazi ways to let us know that we are still inmates who must obey orders.

After a short while under the already burning sun, and without being allowed to cover our already shaven heads, I began to experience an excruciating headache. After a couple of hours many of our co-sufferers began to feel dizziness and some even fainted.

Only about thirty men at a time from a crowd of several hundred, were being let into the showers, and from one such group to the other, took at least an hour and a half to two hours. The ones who finished were let out through the other side of the bath house and were ordered to take their places on the field behind.

This terrible last ordeal at Birkenau became one among my most unforgettable torturous experiences. Without food or water under a bright blue sky, and terribly burning sun, only young men and teenage boys were capable through sheer perseverance to survive for so many hours.

When I finally heard the call to get up and walk to the bath house, it was already in the very late afternoon. I was already quite dizzy holding on to my brother, I walked into the shower room, where the first drops of ice cold water touching my head and body felt so heavenly that many of us were loudly thanking God for his mercy. While taking this long awaited pleasurable event, I kept my mouth wide opened and kept on swallowing water like a dried out camel in the desert.

After the showers we received a set of underwear and a striped prisoner’s uniform with a cap of the same color and stripes. We kept our own wooden shoes and belt. Before being let out we went through an additional examination during which they put an electric bulb into my wide opened mouth, apparently searching for hidden diamonds inside our teeth. The same procedure was performed at the bottom of our rectums.

Instead of being allowed to dress inside the bath house, we were ordered to get out and dress outside. It seems that also this simple move was one of the Nazi’s thought up tortures. It was already past midnight and in sharp contrast to the hot day, the night was absolutely freezing. Being still wet, I was shivering to a point of almost being unable to breathe. Getting finally dressed, I again found a place together with my brother. Sitting back to back and very close to each other, our body temperatures slowly returned to normal.

In the cool of the night we felt quite relaxed and less restless than during the extremely hot day. While waiting for the official orders to move on, I even managed a short nap. When the last group emerged from the bath house it was already full day light.

Escorted by dozens of armed and helmeted soldiers and supervised by scores of shouting capos, we were at last on our way to the waiting train.

The first time after five years of incarceration in the Lodz Ghetto, I found myself among several hundred young men dressed in prison guard like common criminals. Nonetheless I was glad to be able to leave this place no matter how I was dressed. The road we were walking on was an alley dividing two separate camps surrounded by high fences. There were scores of inmates inside each of these camps. Not coming close to the seemingly electrically wired steel fences, many of the inmates kept waving their arms in our direction. Many of them have even managed a loud good-bye, although there were armed guards visible behind them."May God be with you", and "You are so lucky to leave this place", were among the messages coming out from both sides of the fenced in camps.

Judging by the many identical looking inmates, I realized that those separate camps were housing the hundreds of twins who apparently had to go through all kinds of so-called scientific experiments.

Amid another hot day similar to the one when we left the Lodz Ghetto, I found myself again in front of a long train with dozens of cattle wagons. The heavy doors of those wagons were wide open and in apparent contrast to the crowded with luggage wagons of the train which brought us to Auschwitz, these wagons were completely empty. Also the situation at the ramp was less chaotic and much more subdued. Small groups of about fifty each were formed in front of each wagon where baskets full of bread loaves and other items were placed.

In an orderly fashion each one of us received a loaf of black bread, a pretty large chunk of blood wurst and a slice of margarine.

Supervised by capos and being watched by dozens of armed guards, we climbed into the wagon. The only items I noticed immediately were two buckets, one filled with drinking water and the other empty. The empty one is obviously going to serve us as a toilet. After finding a place to sit down I whispered a silent prayer for the dead. I did it not only for my Mother, but for all the relatives and friends whom we left in the ovens of Auschwitz. I vividly saw again my dear Mother’s tearful face before being forcefully taken to her death. I also saw again the fearful and distressed faces of the innocent victims walking in the direction of the gas chambers.