by Yitzhak Arad
26
The Prisoners and the Deportees
As a result of the duties that were assigned to them, the Jewish prisoners, who themselves were destined to die and many of whom were killed every day, became elements in the camp staff and were exploited in the extermination process. All the physical work that was part of the extermination process, from the disembarking of the deportees from the trains onto the platform to the burial and cremation of the bodies, was carried out by Jewish prisoners. With their own eyes they saw how their families and friends were taken to the gas chambers, and there were those who had to bury and burn those dearest to them. The various work groups—the “blues,” the “reds,” the barbers, the “gold Jews,” and those who worked in the selection area—had direct contact with the Jews who were brought to the camp and taken directly to the gas chambers. The prisoners who worked in the extermination area, however, did not have contact with the transports while the people were still alive—they only saw the bodies after suffocation.
Most of the Jews who were brought to the camps did not know where they had come, nor what awaited them in this new place. They therefore asked the prisoners that they met on the platform, in the transport yard, and at the sorting square what was going to happen to them. In Treblinka, after the men undressed they were told to take their clothes, as well as those of the women, to the sorting area and to throw them all onto the large piles that were being sorted by the prisoners who worked there. As the deportees ran by the working prisoners on their way to the gas chambers, the condemned asked what awaited them and asked for help. Yechiel Reichman writes about this:
Near the piles stand people who are busy sorting belongings. I see that everyone is Jewish. As I run past, I try to ask them: “Brothers, tell me, what is it here?” To my disappointment, I do not receive an answer. Each one tries to turn his head away so as not to answer me. I ask again: “Tell me, what happens here?” One answers me: “My brother, do not ask questions. We are lost!” The running with the packages goes on at such a pace that I don’t know what’s happening to me. . . .1
Reichman was not sent to the gas chambers that day. The camp authorities needed barbers, and so he was saved.
At Sorting Square in Treblinka, among the huge piles of clothes, it was sometimes possible for some of the naked men to sneak away from the watchful eyes of the SS guards and Ukrainians and join the working prisoners. This escape route depended on their immediate realization that this was a way to be saved and on finding a hiding place for a few minutes in order to grab some clothes from a pile and get dressed. This was possible in the summer and autumn of 1942, before the working prisoners were given numbers, and was in part due to the help extended by the working prisoners who sorted the piles of clothing. One of the deportees to Treblinka relates that as he was running naked to throw his clothes on the piles, he asked one of the Jews standing on the side in a line what was happening and what to do to escape, but the prisoner did not answer him. Finally a man whispered to him that he had to get dressed again. He tried to push his way into the line of Jews standing on the sides, but they did not let him, as they feared the consequences if one of the SS men in the vicinity were to see. Finally he somehow succeeded in getting into the line, and he was saved. Another deportee hid under a pile of clothes, took out a coat and pants, and got dressed. Prisoners who were working in the area gave him a pair of shoes and let him join them as if he were one of them.2
Aron Gelberd writes about how a group of Jews from Czestochowa was saved by prisoners from the same city who happened to be working at Sorting Square in October 1942. Gelberd himself succeeded in escaping from Treblinka nineteen days after he was taken prisoner.
During the nineteen days that I spent in Treblinka we tried to save whomever we could. How? As they would run naked with clothes in their hands, we would push them into a pile of belongings and cover them with packages. Later we slipped them a pair of pants and a shirt, and they emerged from the pile and stood near us sorting out the belongings. The Germans did not know exactly how many people were supposed to be working at any one time, because every day they murdered tens of prisoners. Unfortunately, many of the Jews did not understand what we were trying to do when we pushed them under the piles of clothing, and so they got up and out and continued to run. . . . Despite this we were still able to save a few Jews from Czestochowa, among them Jacob Eisner, Rappaport, Yitzchak Zeidman. I would like to mention the people that we were not able to save. . . .3
The tumultuous situation in Sorting Square when a new transport arrived, the many piles of belongings scattered all around, the prisoners working there, the thousands of men from the transports running with bundles of clothing in their hands, provided a limited opportunity to a few of those who were being sent to their death to save themselves, even though the SS men and Ukrainians were in the vicinity and were observing the scene. But this method, by its very nature, was extremely limited, because the number of workers in the yard ranged from a few dozen to a hundred, and so only a few could be absorbed in this way into the work force. The prisoners generally tried to assist acquaintances, people from the same city, or relatives they identified among the victims. In Treblinka, Sorting Square was the only place in the camp that the prisoners, despite the danger to which they exposed themselves, were able to assist some people from the transports to save themselves. However, in other areas of the camp, and especially along the route to the gas chambers, the conditions were such that no one was able to help the victims; there were no hiding places, and the Germans and Ukrainians kept a constant watch over the victims.
The women and children, who had been separated from the men, were collected in a hut and undressed there. They did not usually go through Sorting Square. The only direct contact between the women deportees and the prisoners was in that hut, when the “gold Jews” searched their bodies for money and valuables, and finally when the barbers cut off their hair. Abraham Kszepicki, who worked in this hut in Treblinka, writes:
It is difficult to describe the scene in the hut—the embarrassment of the women, the fear of the children, the confusion, the crying. . . . As I stood near the open door looking at the wild scene before me, a blond girl, as pretty as a flower, asked me quickly: “Jew, what are they going to do with us?” It was difficult for me to tell her the truth. I shrugged my shoulders and tried to answer her with a look that would calm her fears. But my behavior frightened the girl even more, and she shouted: “Tell me the truth now! What are they going to do with us? Maybe I can still get out of here!” I had no choice but to say something, so I answered her with one short word: garbage. The girl began to run around the hut like a mouse in a trap looking for the doors and windows, until an SS man came, beat her with a whip, and ordered her to undress. . . .4
Alexander Pechersky, a prisoner of war from a transport from Minsk, wrote about Luka, his girlfriend in Sobibor, who told him about her feelings and thoughts:
Do you know where I work? In the yard where the rabbits are. It is fenced off with a wooden fence. Through the cracks you can see the naked men, women, and children as they are led to Camp III. I look and shake as if in a fever, but I cannot turn my eyes from the sight. At times some call out, “Where are they taking us?” As though they knew that someone was listening and could answer their question. I tremble and remain silent. Cry out? Tell them they are being led to their death? Will it be of any help to them? On the contrary, like this, at least, they go without crying, without screaming, without humiliating themselves before their murderers. But it is so horrible, Sasha, so horrible!5
During the few minutes that the women spent with the barbers who cut their hair, they asked about their imminent fate and why their hair was being cut. They wanted to believe that it was being done for hygienic purposes, before they were taken to the showers. Usually the women were answered with silence or with words of comfort. Yechiel Reichman, who worked as a barber in Treblinka, writes:
I look at the victims—and I cannot belie
ve my eyes. Every woman sits near a barber. In front of me a young woman sits down. My hands become frozen, and I cannot move my fingers. . . . My friend next to me yells at me: “Remember, you’ll be finished—the murderer is looking at you, and you’re working slowly!” I move the fingers of my dirty hand, cut the woman’s hair, and throw it into the suitcase. The woman stands up. . . . Another woman sits down. She takes hold of my hand, wants to kiss it, and says: “I beg of you—tell me, what will they do with us? Is this the end of us?” She is crying and asks me to tell her whether the death is long and difficult. Will they die of gas, or electric shock? I do not answer her. . . . I cannot tell her the truth and comfort her. The entire conversation lasts only a few seconds, the time it takes to cut her hair. I turn my head away, because I am ashamed to look her in the eye. The murderer standing near us yells: “Cut faster!” Thus the victims come one after the other, and the scissors cut the hair without stopping. All around there is crying and yelling, and we must see all this and remain silent.6
A different sort of reaction was recorded by Shmuel Wilenberg, who also worked in Treblinka as a barber:
At a certain point a young girl of about twenty, unbelievably beautiful, came close to me. Our acquaintance lasted only a few minutes, but this short time was enough to fill my memory for many years. She told me that her name was Ruth Dorfman. . . . I saw no fear in her lovely eyes. There was just deep sorrow. In a muffled voice she asked me how long she would have to suffer. I answered her only a few minutes. It was as if a burden had been lifted from us, and our eyes became damp with tears. An SS man passed near us, and I was forced to cut the girl’s long, silken hair. Finally she got up, gave me a long strange look, as if she were taking her leave of me and of the entire unmerciful world, and slowly made her way to the place of no return. After a short time I heard the tremor of the motor expelling the gas, and in my inner eye I saw Ruth among the unclad bodies, lifeless.7
Richard Rashke describes the tragedy that took place in the hair-cutting barrack in Sobibor, based on Tovia Blatt’s testimony, who, at the age of fifteen, worked there as a barber:
Naked women and girls would come into the shed. . . . It took Tuvia less than a minute to cut their pigtails or flowing locks. . . . The Dutch women did not resist, and in a way, it was merciful. They had been told that their hair would be cut to prevent lice from spreading. Some wept. Others, in the presence of men and boys, covered their breasts and squeezed their thighs together. They rarely talked, filing into the shed, their bare feet stepping over the piles of pigtails and black hair on the floor, sitting on the stools, hunched forward, eyes cast down in modesty. Then they filed out through the other door. Tuvia had never seen a naked woman before and, like every fifteen-year-old, he wanted to. But as the women walked tentatively through the door, he cast his eyes down out of shame for them, for seeing them, for snipping their last shred of feminine dignity. The Polish Jews were not fooled, and they tried to defend their nakedness with their tongues. They would curse the Nazis and shout at Tuvia and the other barbers—mostly boys—“We’re going to be murdered. Why don’t you say something? Don’t just stand there! Do something!” Tuvia would ignore their remarks, avoid their eyes filled with hatred and fear, and concentrate on clipping their hair as fast as he could.8
In some survivors’ testimonies there is some criticism of the prisoners who were put to work in the transport area. Oscar Strawczinski from Treblinka writes:
The yard is full of people. On one side women and small children, and on the other side, kneeling men. In the center armed SS men and Ukrainians and a group of about forty men with red bands on their sleeves. These were the Jews from the “red” group. In the jargon of Treblinka they were called the “burial society.” At the head of the group was Jurek, in the past a crude wagon driver from Warsaw for whom the most despicable thing was not despicable at all . . . dressed elegantly—something which was not a special problem in Treblinka—with a whip in his hand, which he frequently used on the Jews. . . .9
The prisoners in Sorting Square, those put to work in the transport yard, the “gold Jews,” and the barbers, who all had contact with the people from the transport as they made their way to the gas chambers, did not generally warn them as to what awaited them, nor did they answer their questions when they were asked. There were several reasons for this behavior. The prisoners were convinced that there was no way they could secure freedom for the deportees and that the masses of Jews being brought in the transports would in any case be taken to the gas chambers. It would therefore be better if they believed they were going to showers, as this would ease their final minutes. If they had known the truth, it could in no way change the tragic reality of the fate that awaited them. Resistance, escape, or deeds out of despair on the part of individuals or groups among the victims, which could occur as a result of the knowledge that they were being led to the gas chambers, could not, in the opinion of the prisoners in the camp, ensure their survival. What’s more, acts of this kind could also jeopardize the lives of the prisoners. Especially in Treblinka the Jewish prisoners were well aware of the consequences of such actions. The killing of the SS man Max Bialas had provoked serious retaliatory measures by the camp authorities against the prisoners. “Quiet” behavior on the part of the people in the transports was essential to ensure the continuation of the prisoners’ routine. The prisoners came to the conclusion that for the good of all involved—the deportees and the working prisoners—it would be better if the prisoners would not answer the deportees’ questions; they should not be told that they were on their way to their death. This was the overriding factor in the prisoners’ silence.
27
Faith and Religion
In the hell of the death camps, there were people who still believed in God, recited prayers, and kept the Commandments as best they could. The face-to-face encounter with death, the trauma of the murder of loved ones and close friends and relatives, the feeling of impotence, the incomprehensibility of what was happening around them and to them, the feeling that in a matter of minutes or days they, too, would no longer be among the living, produced varying reactions; one of them was turning to God. Cries of the Shema could be heard from people who were being pushed into the gas chambers. After the doors had been closed, the cries weakened gradually and finally ceased completely. In their last moments of life, many of those who were taken directly from the transports to the gas chambers turned in faith and hope to their Father in Heaven.
In Treblinka, one of the prisoners from the “red” group, who worked in the area where the women undressed as they began their march to the gas chambers, writes:
There were women who, in the last moments of their lives, tried to find solace in God and died with the name Adonai on their lips. Others prayed for a miracle from heaven, for salvation at the last minute. I saw a tall woman with a wig on her head standing with arms upraised to heaven, like a cantor before the Ark, and behind her a group of women—they, too, with their arms raised—reciting after her word for word: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One. We sacrifice our lives for Kiddush HaShem. Avenge us on our enemies for their crimes, avenge our blood and the blood of our children, and let us say: Amen.”1
Richard Rashke writes of an old man who was brought to Sobibor and on the way to the gas chambers said out loud: “Hear, O Israel. . . .” As he completed the verse, the old man slapped the face of Oberscharführer Frenzel. The commander of the camp, Reichleitner, who happened to be nearby, pulled the old man over to the side and killed him.2
Abraham Kszepicki, a prisoner in Treblinka, writes about the feelings of uncertainty, of absolute astonishment, as to the tragedy that had befallen them, but also of some expressions of the justice of the verdict:
Was this our last night or last hour? No one knew, but it was clear that the end was near. Different people reacted in different ways. Young people who had not been religious before joined the young Hasidim and together with them said the Kaddish. There was no
shortage of moral people who were of the opinion that the tragedy was our punishment from heaven on the sins of the Jewish people. As a result of this kind of talk, there were people who felt guilty like sinners. They confessed, prayed, bowed, and expressed their fear with crying and chanting psalms. . . .3
Religious expressions and what might even be taken as justification of the mass killings also caused antagonistic reactions, protests and demands of “Where is God?” Yechiel Reichman writes:
I hear from the left side of the hut how the poor miserable people are standing there, praying the Afternoon and Evening services, and after the prayers, with tears in their eyes, they say Kaddish. The Kaddish wakes me. . . . I was almost out of my mind, and I yelled at them: “To whom are you saying Kaddish?! Do you still believe?! In what do you believe and whom are you thanking?! You are thanking the Master of the Universe for His righteousness, Who took our brothers and sisters, our fathers and mothers—you are thanking Him?! No, no! It is not true that there is a God in Heaven. If there were a God, He would not be able to look at this great tragedy, at this great injustice, as they murder newborn children innocent of any crime, as they murder people who wanted to live in honesty and benefit humanity, and you, the living witnesses to this great tragedy, you are still thanking?! Whom are you thanking?!”4
But both justification of and protest against God were extreme expressions of only a few prisoners. Most of the believers among the prisoners accepted what was going on around them, the mass extermination that was being perpetrated in front of their eyes—and with their forced participation—as something beyond their grasp, and expressed neither justification nor protest. Their prayers were above all a plea for mercy from God in Heaven, and the recitation of the Kaddish in memory of their dear ones.