While you had the strength to survive, I believe that it takes another kind of strength to stand in front of a group and relive the horrors of your past. And you’ve not only done this once; you’ve done it hundreds of times because you know how important it is to let the world know of the evil that happened during the Holocaust.
Mrs. Rose, you are one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. I am in awe. I can see just how feisty and spirited and strong you are, and I cannot help but admire you. Your strength truly inspires me. Therefore,
I promise not to be a bystander.
I promise, as a member of the last generation to hear your survivor’s first-hand account, that I will not let your story die.
I promise I will never forget your story, and I will be your voice.
Thank you for all that you have taught us and for the absolute pleasure of meeting you.
Yours truly,
Kaitlyn Taylor
Chapter Fifteen:
Liberation and Beyond
When Allied Forces liberated Nazi concentration and extermination camps, soldiers bore witness to crimes against humanity never seen on this scale before; there was no word in language for such atrocities until after the war, i.e. genocide.
At Bergen-Belsen on April 15, 1945, thousands of emaciated, traumatized, and extremely ill prisoners greeted their rescuers, all requiring medical attention and fulfillment of basic needs. Thousands of corpses had to be bulldozed into mass graves and all prisoner barracks burned to the ground to quell rampant disease throughout the camp.
About 2,000 liberated victims were housed nearby in a former German military school barracks in addition to using the German quarters at the camp. Bergen-Belsen became the largest and most socially and politically active Displacement Camp (DP) in Germany.
Jews requested segregation for their populace and organized themselves. The liberated Jews began to create schools, vocational training, a newspaper, religious and entertainment activities. Life began to emerge from the ashes. People married; two thousand babies were born in the DP camp.
Some displaced persons (DPs) left the camp relatively soon if they located loved ones and/or had a place to go. But for many, the newly liberated had no idea where to go or if they had homes, even countries of origin, to return to. Over 11,000 were still in the Jewish section of Bergen-Belsen a year after the war. They actively advocated for British release of control over Palestine. The State of Israel was finally formed on May 14, 1948. The last DPs left Bergen-Belsen in August 1951. Most went to Israel, Canada, or the US.47
The recently formed United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA), almost half funded by the United States, provided whatever was needed for their health and welfare. UNRRA administered DP camps in Germany, Austria, and Italy. The organization not only provided economic assistance but also aided refugees with repatriation and immigration efforts. UNRRA worked with other agencies, such as the Joint Distribution Committee and the Hebrew Immigration Aid Society (HIAS). The military continued to be involved, assisting with transportation, supplies and security.48
The Holocaust had come to an end. Six million Jews died in the process, a million and a half of them children. For the survivors, a new and uncertain life awaited. The world had not listened to their cries. Would the world listen now? Is there hope that the survivors’ cry of “Never Again” will be heard?
• • •
What Now?
After a long four years, the barbed wire fence fell, the shackles that had bound us dropped. We were now faced with freedom, freedom we had sought for such a long time. But we didn’t know anymore what to do with this freedom. We had lived and suffered together so many years, and, suddenly, we found ourselves unguarded and could do as we pleased. Of course, liberty was not yet complete because, after the first few days, we were moved to the former German quarters. We were deloused, cleaned, and our filthy barracks were burned down.
The kitchen guard had to go on working to provide food for the people. An office was organized; plans for transportation of the newly liberated were mapped out. I continued working in the kitchen, my sister beside me; Helen and Elsie also got jobs doing office work. We managed to get a room for the four of us alone.
Once, returning from the kitchen, I realized how melancholy our situation really was. I sat there, surrounded by the fragrance of flowers. I turned on the radio, and the music seemed to tear me away into the current of life. Why do I smell the scent of flowers? Why do I hear the bewitching music just in this moment of utter despondency? And again I remembered the eternal companion of my life, Binne, and tried to focus on how lucky were to have survived the war.
My sister kept on asking me why I was so sad. I told her, “Today (June 10) is my birthday. I am eighteen years old and haven’t had too many joys in my life.”
I didn’t know the carefree days of youth. The only thing that was light and warm and full of love was my early childhood. But where were our parents? Gone, dead…. We had to stop being the little girls. We could not fantasize anymore that we would meet our parents again.
The power of all these dismal thoughts was so strong that I was afraid to share this with Binne. I asked myself if it was worth it to survive all the tragedy and now to face freedom, drained of all capacity to build my own life.
As there were still some terribly sick people in the camp, a number of Belgian hospital interns were sent to Bergen-Belsen to take care of the patients. We had to cook for those doctors. Two girls, my sister, and I were chosen to wait tables.
During this time, a young doctor fell in love with me. Although I was old enough to have understood what love is, I was not interested in his wooing. He sent me poems, beautiful verse, but it didn’t affect me. Perhaps I was still too broken in my soul over the loss of so many of my family and too shy to accept his courting.
In spite of all that, I went with him to the movies several times. There was one movie, reserved by order of the English, just for the doctors and the soldiers. Of course, they could take guests with them. Therefore, I accepted his invitation. It was more to see the movie than to be in his company. On the way home, he tried to interest me in philosophy, and I had not the slightest idea what he was talking about.
Once, returning with him from the movies, I found my sister kissing a man. What a surprise when I found out it was our brother!
Siblings Reunited
I almost fainted from happiness. I hardly recognized him. Jurek wore a long beard. When I asked him what camp he had been in, he started telling me that he had marched for two months from one camp to another looking for us. Someone told him that we were probably in Bergen-Belsen. Jurek told us that he had been freed by the French, later joined by Americans.
Jurek had a flat ready for us at Stuttgart. He wanted us to go with him. So, we quickly made up our minds that my sister, Helen, Elsie, and I would all go to Stuttgart. As there was no possibility of rail transportation, all the railways having been destroyed, we had to look for a car. Even that was impossible; we could not get a car. We had to stay where we were. Meanwhile, Helen got news that her father and one of her boyfriends were still alive. Therefore, she decided to remain in Bergen-Belsen to wait for them.
In July, the three Sherman siblings, along with Elsie, left Bergen-Belsen to go to Stuttgart. As soon as we reached the city, my brother suggested that we might like to go to school and learn some English. I said that I would rather go to work. Because the German people were not allowed to work for the Americans, many vacant jobs were available. But, of course, with my lack of experience, I didn’t think of an office job. I didn’t know if I were able to do such work.
An American liaison officer, who spoke German, employed me as a receptionist. The work was really easy as I always had to do the same thing: receive and announce visitors who came with an application for transportation back to their own countries. As everything was c
haotic and conditions were by no means normal in Germany, everyone who wanted to return home had to apply for permission to travel. Stuttgart became one of the DP camps.
Stuttgart, 1946
This picture was taken a few months after liberation when the Sherman sisters left Bergen-Belsen
and returned to Stuttgart with Jurek
Rose is in the center; Binne is on the right.
Moving Forward
UNRRA, the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration, helped people to return to any destination they wanted to travel. But first survivors had to register and meet a quota to be able to immigrate to the USA. Binne and my brother registered right away. Since Binne was just under sixteen, she was the first to immigrate in 1946 on a HIAS-sponsored children’s transport to the United States.
I was next to register, but my health did not permit me to leave the same time as Binne. I was down to eighty-seven pounds after the war and placed in a hospital for a while. The same thing happened to Jurek.
Immigration officials found out that Jurek had tuberculosis. He and would never be admitted to the United States. He was sent to a sanatorium in the mountains for nearly two years but was never cured. With help, Jurek eventually got smuggled out of Germany. After being waylaid in Cyprus for nearly a year, gainfully employed, he finally arrived in Israel in 1948. There, he lived a relatively long and successful life.
Elsie stayed by my side until I was finally well enough to get my documents in order and travel. On January 26, 1950, Elsie and I arrived in New York City. We were met at the dock and were taken in hand by my sister and her husband. When my feet first hit the ground, I literally kneeled down to kiss the earth.
G-d, whom I had doubted at times during the Holocaust, had never abandoned me. He spared me more than once, left me with siblings, guided me through so many challenges in my life. He continued to bless my life thereafter with sons and grandsons, and a beautiful marriage to the love of my life, Jack Williams.
In 1950, G-d brought me out of war-torn Europe to the United States of America, where Elsie and I began new lives in a new country, a democratic country where we would be truly free to become whatever we could envision for ourselves. Gratefully, I continue to thrive, not just survive. And after sixty-nine years in this country, from the bottom of my heart, I still say, “G-d bless America!”
Rose’s Passport, 1950
Rose was 23 years old when she came to America.
Dear Rose,
When I met you, I felt you were a truly exquisite speaker. I wish there were more people like you in the sense that you are outspoken. I feel that society today has been blinded by the atrocities that occur on a daily basis, and, as a result, they feel that they don’t have to live with what their silence causes.
I wish I could have recorded your speech so as to allow our grandchildren to become educated and wise to what has occurred in the past. I feel a sense of righteousness pours from your soul and your words, instilling us all with the will to make the world a better place. Before I met you, I felt the need to entertain and make people happy. Now I am emboldened with the ideals that we must all be vocal against injustice and the tyranny of human nature. Sadly, these terrible concepts are alive and well in the world today; but I feel that I can help others to be cured of this social blindness.
I know that you have been burdened by the weight of the world, and I wish to relieve you of this strain. I will carry your banner of justice and acceptance forward, into the brawl of inequality and hatred. I hope that you are content and feel that you have reached your goals, such as the one you made to your son to tell your story. In doing so, you have successfully passed on your message to the next generation. I know myself that the atrocities you suffered are hard to understand. I will try my best to comprehend. To feel. To pass on the word. To live.
Sincerely,
Keith Lebeau
Dear Rose,
First and foremost, the thing I want to say to you is “Sorry.” I’m sorry for everything that you’ve had to go through. Your life has been full of battles, and I can only hope to be half as strong as you are one day. I’m also sorry I wasn’t around to help when you needed it most. I wish there were something I could’ve done to liberate you. I’m just horrified at the indifference of the world to your struggle and the struggles that others have to endure globally.
Listening to your story made me more determined to make a difference and to keep myself from being an indifferent bystander. I want to put myself in a position where I can effect change and protect the innocent from the same kind of terrorism and ignorant hatred that was so unfortunately visited upon you.
I also want to thank you. Thank you for keeping your promise to your son to tell your story. I don’t like how easy it is for people to forget just how close we came to losing an entire group of people and the free world as we know it. I also want to thank you for telling your story uncut. The whole full truth is what generations of people need to hear in order to keep suffering on this scale from destroying everything you, me, and the rest of the freedom-loving population value so much.
Your words inspire me to make a difference in this world, to give more than I take, to share more than I ever could’ve imagined. I will always make sure people’s suffering never goes unheard. I will bring more life and love to this world in an effort to conquer the hatred that lurks in the darkest corners.
Thank you, Rose.
Sincerely,
Evan Baker
Dear Rose,
I was truly captivated by your story, your journey through a time of countless injustices and inconceivable suffering. I never personally would have thought that I would have the distinct privilege to hear the inspirational account of someone who persevered through one of the darkest points in the twentieth century. Through hearing your words, it becomes easy for one to reflect on and admire the global progress that has been made since the time of the Second World War and the Holocaust. It is simply unimaginable that so many atrocities were committed in the name of prejudice, false perceptions, and the seeds of hatred. The crimes of the Holocaust had no true reasoning behind them. Such horrible acts were formed at the expense of reason and human decency. I could not imagine the strength, will, and fortitude someone would need to endure what you have endured, to witness the things you had seen, and most of all, to keep living life with hope and resolve after all of it had ended.
Through your story, you told us of the most personal of experiences. You told us of your deafened ear from one of many vicious beatings. You told us of your ulcerous feet from the dampened grounds of Auschwitz. You told us of the bare spot upon your head, where the end of a rifle had forcefully struck. You then showed us the greyed area of six letters and numbers that rested upon your arm. This is where your very identity was seemingly stripped away. You shared of your desperate encounter with Dr. Mengele and the sparing of your life from the man who was synonymous with so much death. We were distressed to hear of the death of your grandmother, who died protecting innocent children, and the profound effect this had on you. We were relieved to hear the story of your liberation, and the survival of your brother and sister. It is fair to say that your story has the power to change the perspective, and perhaps the life, of anyone who hears it, including me.
I myself descend from Jewish family. My great-great grandmother came from Poland to the United States and was fortunate enough to avoid the grip of Nazism in her home country. She may have been seen as having luck herself, but it occurred to me that she undoubtedly had friends or relatives who stayed behind and thus experienced the Holocaust firsthand. I have immense pride of my Jewish roots, from the lessons I have learned and the many stories I have heard. I learned that the Jewish people have endured so much in recent history yet they had the unbridled ability to overcome their suffering and hardships. I wish and remain hopeful that more people in the world will learn this histo
ry to the extent in which our class had.
I believe that it is imperative that we as individuals not only remember the Holocaust itself, but that we truly take lesson from it that we should never be a bystander to any injustice, large or small. It will become the responsibility of the successive generations to ensure that hatred never wins in this country, or in this world. There are those who will deny the existence of the Holocaust, or not know of its significance. Whether it be through choice or ignorance, it becomes our role to garner the truth and prove such people wrong with the stories and experiences of survivors like you. I greatly appreciate and thank you for all that you have shared and the character you have demonstrated for others. I will never forget what I have learned.
Sincerely,
Clint Walker
Afterword
In the opening chapter of Letters to Rose, the reader will notice that Rose initially wrote her Holocaust memoir from Paris in January of 1948, less than three years after her liberation from the notorious concentration camp Bergen-Belsen. April 15, 1945, ended her incarceration, but her post-war difficulties, too personal and arduous to share here, were only beginning. With liberation came displacement and the harsh realizations of the deaths of over fifty family members, loss of her now-Communist home country of Poland, and all the fears that came with uncertainty about Rose’s future.
The particular catalyst for the writings out of Paris was the birth of her elder son, Pete. Simultaneous with the first real joy of the post-war years was an overwhelming urgency to record significant memories from early childhood through her six-year nightmare later called the Holocaust.
Letters to Rose Page 14