The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII

by Marion Kummerow

  Coming from the old woman it sounded like the Promised Land. Rachel caught a glimpse of her wistful expression and shook her head with disbelief. But just as quickly the cold hand of fright closed around her heart. She saw herself reflected in the eyes of that cynical old bitch. In a year’s time, would Rachel look and think the same way? Panic welled up in her, making her stagger. A year from now Mindel would be dead if she didn’t find her first.

  Roll call ended and the non-working women were basically left to their own devices for the rest of the day. Most flopped down on the ground, leaning against the walls of the barracks, soaking up the April sunshine. It was such a beautiful day, the sun shining brightly from a cloudless sky.

  Back home on her parents’ farm, the first seedlings would be peeking through the warming earth, braving the frosty nights. A wave of nostalgia hit her square in the chest. Life hadn’t been easy under the Nazis’ rule, but their secluded farm on the outskirts of the tiny village Kleindorf had been a safe haven – until last fall.

  Nobody had bothered them, and her parents had always said Kleindorf was too remote and small to attract a Nazi raid. And even then, they had believed the Kleindorf farmers would stand by their side.

  But one day the Mayor, Herr Keller, had arrived on their farm with a truck, shoved her parents inside and declared himself the new owner of the land. The four siblings had escaped, only because they’d been collecting mushrooms and berries in the woods. When they had returned in the evening, the old witch, a ninety-year-old herb-wife, had warned the children to run away and hide.

  It hadn’t helped them much, but given them only a short respite, before the despicable Herr Keller and his henchmen had caught them. At least her two brothers had managed to escape. She wondered what had become of them.

  Sadness filling her heart. She got up and walked around the compound asking every woman about her sister. Most simply shook their heads, others advised her to forget about the brat, but finally she found a kind soul.

  “Sit down for a while, will you?” the woman in a drab gray dress with the yellow star sewn onto it said. “I’m Doris, by the way.”

  “Rachel.”

  “When did you last see your sister?”

  She recounted the story how they’d been separated at arrival.

  The woman frowned and then used her forefinger to etch a map of the camp into the dirt. The form looked a bit like a tank with a sharp end on the right and a broader one on the left.

  “We are here in the Women’s camp, over there behind the fence lies the SS clothing store and the workshops, and right next to it, with only a small connection to our compound, is the Star camp, where they keep Jews of different nationalities as hostages to exchange for German prisoners of war.”

  “Really?” Rachel had no idea. In her little village not much had been said about politics and she’d never even imaged these things could exist.

  “Yes, but don’t get your hopes up. Since I came here a year ago, nobody has left this place alive. Here,” she pointed to the right of the Star Camp on her map. “We have the Hungarian camp and the Special camp. These inmates are privileged, don’t have to work and get extra rations, because they have paid for their escape already and are waiting to resume their journey to Palestine.”

  Rachel felt so stupid. There were actual people, Germans, going to Palestine? Her parents had only ever spoken with disdain about the ones they called Zionists, claiming they were the root of discord between the Jews.

  “Next the Neutrals camp, filled with Jews from nations that are not at war with Germany, like Spain or Argentina. And a small men’s camp. Behind that row there’s another camp that’s not guarded by the SS, but by the Wehrmacht. They keep wounded Soviet soldiers there, and from what I’ve heard, conditions are a lot worse than here.”

  “Worse?” Rachel involuntarily gasped and held a hand in front of her mouth.

  Doris cackled a laugh at her. “Much worse. But back to your sister. My best guess is she’ll be in the Star camp.”

  That much Rachel had already gathered from the woman yesterday. “How can I go there?”

  “You can’t.” Doris leaned back, reaching under her dress and then pulling out her hand with a victorious expression. “Got you!”

  Rachel didn’t even have to look to know that Doris had just plucked another of those nasty critters from whatever intimate body part, because she’d become so used to doing this herself. Everyone in the camps was lice-infested and she’d been combing her fingers though Mindel’s long hair every night to keep her as lice-free as possible under these unhygienic conditions. Once, in her first camp, they’d all been sprayed with some stinking chemical that stung in her eyes for hours. But the critters had returned the very next day, adding one more misery to her already miserable existence.

  Desperation washed over Rachel. Somehow, she needed to find a way to get into the infirmary in the other compound and search for Mindel there.

  5

  “Watch me and learn,” Laszlo whispered to Mindel, as they were hiding outside the back door of the kitchen barracks.

  “What are you going to do?” Mindel whispered back, goosebumps rising on her skin. She was scared someone might see them and Laszlo looked as if he were up to no good, but she wasn’t going to let him see her fear. The other children in the group had argued she was too little to hang out with them, but he’d stuck up for her.

  She looked up at him with raw adulation. He seemed so grown-up and was so courageous, he was her champion and she’d do whatever he wanted. For the past days she’d followed him around, always eager to please him and make him proud of her. She’d prove the other children wrong and show them she wasn’t too little.

  Laszlo peeked around the corner of the building and then pulled her over until she could see as well. “That bucket is my goal.”

  Mindel looked at the woman in the kitchen who was pulling potatoes from a large gunny sack and peeling them into a bucket – the same bucket Laszlo had pointed to.

  “Those are potato peels,” she whispered back.

  “And they taste really good. I’m going to get us some.”

  “But that’s stealing,” Mindel said, appalled at his heinous plan.

  “So what?”

  She stared at him, her mind wandering back to her parents’ farm. One time, her mother had made a birthday cake for Israel, but everyone had only been allowed a small slice before she’d covered it and put it away for the next day. Mindel and Aron had waited until her mother walked out to milk the cows, snuck into the kitchen pantry and each grabbed a huge slice into their hands.

  Out of fear of being caught red-handed, they’d crouched in the pantry and stuffed the cake into their mouths as fast as they could. Once the deed was accomplished, they snuck out and into the garden, pretending nothing had happened.

  But the moment her mother saw them, her lovely face turned red and she called them out on stealing the cake. Even today, Mindel had no idea how her mother had found out, since they’d been so careful.

  It had been a horrible moment when her mother had taken Mindel’s sticky hands, turned them with the palm upward and hit her with a wooden spoon. Aron hadn’t fared much better either, and both had been sent to their bedroom without dinner that day.

  Mindel had never again stolen even a morsel of food from the pantry.

  “Please, don’t. You’ll get in trouble. They’ll beat you,” she pleaded with Laszlo.

  “Only if I get caught. And I’d rather take a beating than starve to death.”

  Mindel heard his words and the truth behind them, but she wasn’t sure she agreed. In the camp people got beaten all the time for tiny misdeeds and it wasn’t with a wooden spoon, but with truncheons and whips. She’d even seen people fall down and never get up again after a beating. She didn’t want that to happen to Laszlo. He was her friend.

  “See that little cubbyhole by the shelves?” Laszlo asked.

  She craned her head until she saw it, and nodded.


  “You’re fast and small, so you sneak inside and hide there. I’ll stand guard out here. Once the woman turns her back to you, grab as much from the bucket as you can and run back here to me. I’ll create a distraction if I need to.”

  All the blood drained from her head and she suddenly felt dizzy. “You want me to steal the potato skins?”

  “It’s called organizing food, not stealing. If you pass this test, I’ll make you a member of our gang.”

  Mindel swallowed. She so badly wanted to be part of the gang. To belong to someone. And she was hungry. Very hungry. But stealing was wrong. Her mother would be so disappointed.

  Laszlo saw her wavering and insisted, “I dare you. You can’t be with us if you’re a chickenshit.”

  She hated this word. Aron had always name-called her this and worse when she hadn’t obeyed his stupid rules. She squared her shoulders and said, “I’ll do it, because I’m brave.”

  Quivering with fear, she bit her lip, thinking of a way to get out of this dare. She repeated Laszlo’s words, telling herself it wasn’t really stealing – because the SS men were so mean and didn’t give them enough. But not even that helped to calm her nerves.

  Laszlo nudged her forward. “Ready? Then go.”

  Mindel nodded. Gathering up all her courage she crept forward, intent on pretending this was simply a game of hide and seek. Back on the farm she’d been a master, hiding in the smallest crevices without making a sound. Most of the time, her brothers would walk right by her, never knowing that she was merely inches away from them.

  Suddenly, excitement pushed her fear away. The kitchen worker and those stupid SS guards would never know she was even there, and Laszlo would praise her master skills at playing hide and seek. As an added benefit she’d return with a handful of potato skins for their group of children. She gave a slow smile, encouraging herself, before she squinted her eyes, focusing on the task at hand. Silence was the most important factor, because adults tended to go more by ear than by sight where children were concerned.

  She crept toward the door and waited until the woman wielding the potato peeler turned her back, then Mindel quickly slipped into the kitchen and pressed herself into the small hiding place. Barely breathing, she watched and waited until the woman picked up the tray of peeled potatoes and walked over to the stove.

  Mindel wasted no time. She rushed forward, plunged her hands into the bucket, grabbed two handfuls of potato peels and ran for the doorway where Laszlo was waiting for her. She ducked out of the kitchen just as the sounds of the woman’s feet returned. Clutching her bounty to her chest, she ran with Laszlo toward another building where they’d left the other kids.

  “Good job,” Laszlo said once they were sitting behind the hut, breathing hard.

  Mindel smiled broadly at him and presented her spoils. “I did it.”

  “Yes, you did it.” Laszlo was eyeing the potato peels and Mindel held out her hands toward him.

  “Eat some.”

  “You stole them, you get first dibs.”

  Mindel put the food on a not-so-dirty patch of ground and ate two peels. They were slightly bitter and smelled like dirt, but tasted much better than the horrible gruel they were given for soup. Then she divided the bulk into five equal parts for each of the children in the group: Laszlo, Ruth, Fabian, Clara and herself.

  “Here,” she invited them.

  Almost reverently the children each took their share and chewed the unexpected treat. Once they finished eating, Laszlo grinned. “See, I told you she’s not too small.”

  Fabian pouted, but Clara said, “You were right. Now let’s make her a member of the gang.”

  After Laszlo nodded his approval, Ruth produced a strip of washed-out gray-brown yarn from her pocket, tied it around Mindel’s left wrist and said rather ceremoniously, “Welcome to our gang!”

  Everyone shook her hand and Mindel felt herself grow a few inches with pride. The other children had accepted her as part of their group. She wasn’t alone anymore.

  Later at night, she climbed into her bunk, surprised that it was empty. Apparently the two adults who’d slept there last night had found a better place and had taken the blankets with them, leaving her without one and without the warmth of two more bodies by her side.

  She shivered at the thought of the upcoming night, because even though the days could be quite warm, the nights were still cold – although not as horrid as they’d been during the harsh winter.

  The memory of herself cuddling with Rachel to keep warm under the threadbare blanket brought tears into her eyes and she took out Paula, kissed her dirty face, and cried as silently as she could because she didn’t want to hear the adults curse her for waking them up.

  A small hand reached for her and she started. It was too dark to see who it was, but when she heard a familiar voice whisper, “Don’t cry. I’ll stay with you,” she relaxed.

  “Thanks.” She smiled through her tears and eagerly nodded despite the fact that he could not see her and moved back to allow Laszlo to climb onto her bunk.

  He brought a blanket with him, covered them both with it and they huddled together. She instantly felt warmer, clutching onto his arm with one hand.

  “I will protect you,” he said.

  “Won’t you get in trouble with your mother?” Mindel knew that the Star camp was separated into men’s huts and women’s huts, but families could see each other during the day. Usually girls stayed with their mothers and boys with their fathers, but if they didn’t have one, they were allowed to stay with their mother or another female relative in the women’s barracks.

  His arm around her shoulder tensed and she was scared she’d said something wrong and made him angry at her. The prospect of alienating her best friend made her shudder.

  “My mother died a while ago,” he whispered with a restrained voice before he gave a deep sigh. “No one pays any attention to me. The other people in my bunk will be happy to have more space.”

  “This is such a horrible place,” Mindel murmured.

  “It is. But we can fight better than they do and stay alive. You know, it won’t be long before the Allies will come and rescue us.”

  Mindel had never heard talk about the Allies before, but if they were friends of Laszlo and planned to rescue them from this awful place, she would consider them her friends too.

  After a while, his breathing evened out and she snuggled even tighter against his warm body, soaking up the protection he offered. Rachel used to hold her just like this while they slept, and even though she missed her sister like crazy, she felt reassuringly safe in Laszlo’s arms. Plus, he’d told her, his allies were coming to rescue them.

  She lay there trying to figure out why the SS guards, both men and women, were so cruel to everyone. Searching her conscience, she couldn’t find any misdeed to draw their ire, and yet they constantly snarled at her and even threatened to hit her with their horrible whips.

  There were no answers and she finally fell asleep full of worries. When the nightmares and tears came, as they inevitably did each night, Laszlo was there to soothe her fears with promises to watch over her and keep her safe.

  Mindel believed him. Laszlo seemed so grown-up; he’d brought a blanket with him, had made her part of his gang, and had shown her how to organize food. A proud smile appeared on her lips as she remembered how she’d outwitted the kitchen woman. Just a tiny nagging voice insisted it was stealing and stealing wasn’t right.

  She ignored the voice, because having an aching, growling tummy was even worse. Drifting back to sleep, she dreamt about Rachel and how she’d find her with Laszlo’s help.

  6

  Another trainload of newcomers had arrived the night before and the already full camp was bursting at the seams. Rachel stood in line for roll call, musing about her failed efforts to find Mindel. Her little sister definitely wasn’t in the Women’s camp and none of her plans to get into the infirmary in the Star camp had worked. The limited communicat
ion across the barbed wire fence hadn’t produced any results either.

  She was close to despair. Her legs aching from standing still for hours, she quietly shifted her weight from one leg to the other and moved her toes in her dilapidated shoes to get the blood flowing again.

  In fact, she wondered whether her body even had blood left to circulate, since the rations were so minuscule, her stomach was painfully rebelling against its emptiness at all times – even keeping her from sleeping at night.

  One hour went by, and then another, and everyone still stood outside, waiting. There seemed to be a problem with the lists counting the newcomers and the horrible blond guard began her count again, generously cracking her whip at anyone not showing the perfect “Aryan posture”: legs straight, shoulders squared, eyes ahead. If it weren’t so awful, it would be funny to watch the women sagging as soon as the vicious guard had passed.

  Lost in her musings, she didn’t notice how one of the guards entered her row, came to a standstill in front of her and yelled, “You, over there!”

  Rachel flinched, taking two seconds to realize he’d meant her. Before he could crack his whip at her, she hurried to nod and scurry over to a group of waiting women. As soon as the roll call ended, her group was herded toward the exit gates, where a truck was waiting for them.

  She inwardly cursed, frantically searching for a way out, but there was none. She had to climb onto that damn truck whether she wanted to or not, and minutes later the vehicle sped out of the gates, loaded with miserable women.

  As the despised Bergen-Belsen camp disappeared in the distance, her heart sank. She’d never find her little sister again. Since she’d run out of tears many weeks ago, she leaned against the railing and squeezed her eyes shut, conjuring up the image of her baby sister. Mindel was as good as dead and it was all her fault. She should have grabbed her hand tighter, shouldn’t have allowed the guards to separate them, should have…her shoulders trembled as she hung on to her morose thoughts.