Lejb Orenstein (author’s father) at the age of fifty-seven.
Golda Orenstein (author’s mother) at the age of thirty.
Hrubieszów, center of town. The three-story building was where the author lived until he was sixteen years old.
The author at the age of six and his sister Hanka at the age of four.
OPPOSITE TOP: Felek Orenstein (author’s brother) at the age of thirty-one.
OPPOSITE MIDDLE: Fred Orenstein (author’s brother) in U.N.N.R.A. uniform, 1945, at the age of thirty-six.
OPPOSITE BOTTOM: Sam (Shlomo) Orenstein (author’s brother) at the age of thirty.
ABOVE: Photo taken in 1937 of (left to right) Chaim Ajzen, author, cousin Joe (Józiek) Strum, Bolek Goldstein, and cousin Józiek Peretz. below: Deportation of Jews to a death camp in the Lublin district.
Jews awaiting their fate, surrounded by guards.
Jews waiting to be deported to a death camp.
Jews before their execution, surrounded by the S.S.
Jews at the edge of a pit just prior to their execution.
BELOW LEFT: Appel (roll call) in the Sachsenhausen-Oranienburg Concentration Camp near Berlin. Author was a prisoner there in 1945. BELOW RIGHT: A group of S.S. men who carried out the “Aktion” in the Lublin district.
Second Letter (from Himmler to Pohl)
TRANSLATION
Reichcommander SS
Field Commandpost
38/55/44g
May 25, 1944
To: SS-Obergruppenfuehrer Pohl
Berlin:
Concerning the Jews, whom we now have from Hungary, as well as other prisoners in our concentration camp, there are without doubt, a lot of physicists, chemists and other scientists.
I am assigning SS-Uppergruppen commander Pohl, to a concentration camp that is for scientific research, to assess the knowledge of these people for the demanding and time consuming calculation of formulae, technical preparation for one time construction, for the foundation of research work. The ancestor inheritance recovery of assets is to be considered in cooperation with the main office of Reich security, which furnished a similar solution among the Russian prisoners to place them in the science and armaments industry since it was urgent from orders to catch up. Total responsibility: SS-Obergruppenfuehrer Pohl, research leadership; Inheritance, SS-Oberfuehrer Wuest; representing: SS-Standartenfuehrer Sievers. The valuable suggestion of this complex issue originates from SS-Obergruppenfuehrer Koppe.
As to the special contract for the inheritance giving immediately in the event of outbreak of war from Dr. Scultetus has already begun for the basis of a long term prediction of war but were suspended in the year 1939 because of reasons related to war. Dr. Scultetus is at this time reachable at the address: SS-Stubaf. Oberregierunggenrat (council) Dr. S., Koenigsberg-Devau (5b) Airbase-Weatherstation.
Sent H. Himmler
SECRET!
URGENT!
9/8/44
To Reichsfuehrer-SS
H. Himmler
Field Command Quarters
Subject: Scientific Work in Concentration Camp Płaszów for War Economy
My Reichsfüehrer:
We have in Concentration Camp Płaszów in a separate scientific section put together Jewish prisoners who have worked in recent months under the leadership of the German scientists of the Institute for the German Eastwork with good results regarding the solution of various important war economy scientific projects.
In the meantime the Institute for the German Eastwork [Ostarbeit] has been moved to Castle Zandt over Cham in Austria [Ostmark]. The Institute considers it important that the combined effort [gemaess] of the individual groups of experts in chemistry, mathematics, physics, and bacteriology in work groups of assembled Jewish scientists of the various specialties be made useful in furthering the continuation in the interest of arms production and war economy.
I recommend, therefore, that the scientific section in the Concentration Camp Płaszów be transferred to the Concentration Camp Flossenbrueck, so that the German scientists of the Institute for the German Eastwork can continue their efforts based on the work done to date, and the already planned expansion of the scientific tasks given to the Jews in making use of the experience to date of the Institute for the German Eastwork can be continued.
[Wilhelm] Koppe
Group Leader of SS and
General of the Police
[in Poland ]
Dr. Lucjian Dobroszycki’s comments on the Himmler letter
One of the most revealing stories in Henry Orenstein’s memoirs is an account of his participation in the “Chemical Kommando” of phony scientists composed of Jewish prisoners in the concentration camps of Budzy’n, Majdanek, Płaszów, Ravensbrück, and Sachsenhausen. The existence of the “Chemical Kommando” was, until Mr. Orenstein’s account, entirely unknown. Although the author’s truthfulness has not been challenged by anyone, historians look for at least one document that corroborates oral history of this kind. Such a document came to my attention after Henry Orenstein’s book was published.*
This document—or I should say the letter quoted opposite, in extenso—is indeed of extraordinary value, because of the man who wrote it, as well as the addressee and its subject matter. The letter, marked “Urgent!” (Dringend!) and “Secret!” (Geheim!), was written by Wilhelm Koppe, the Highest SS and Police Leader in occupied Poland, and is addressed to his immediate superior, Heinrich Himmler, the SS Reichsleader and Chief of the German Police, whom Hitler made responsible for the destruction of European Jewry. Koppe informs Himmler of three crucial facts: first, that he has established a scientific department in the concentration camp of Płaszów consisting of some of the Jewish scientists imprisoned there. Second, that those Jewish specialists, under the leadership of German scientists from the Institute for German Advancement in the East (Institut für Deutsche Ostarbeit) in Cracow, had achieved good results in solving various important scientific problems related to the war economy and armament. Third, Koppe asks Himmler to allow the Institute, which had already been evacuated from Poland to Austria (following the Red Army’s summer 1944 offensive), to have the Jewish scientists evacuated as well since this would permit the Institute to expand its important work.
The work done by the “Chemical Kommando” was transparently phony and thinly disguised. One might wonder who really was behind this bizarre enterprise. Koppe and Himmler should be excluded from any consideration. It is extremely unlikely that either would have bothered with inventing such a cover-up. Was the “Chemical Kommando” the invention of certain German professors who, fearful of being drafted and sent to the Eastern Front, set up sinecures for themselves? If so, did they act alone, or with the consent of people in the Nazi power structure in Cracow or Berlin? These and other questions might be answered if additional documents on the subject come to light.
Author’s concentration camp certificate card issued in Landsberg, Germany.
(Left to right) author, Hy Silberstein, and Bencio Fink, ca. 1975.
Author and Fred Orenstein, ca. 1977.
One of Mrs. Lipińska’s letters to the author. Respected Dear Family Orenstein:
This is to let you know that I received your letter and the photographs. I’m very grateful to you. If you only knew what a joyous day that was for me. I started to cry from joy when I looked at your photograph. You are so pleasant, nice-looking. Every day I take a look at it, put it away, the next day I look at it again, and I remember those scary, horrible times, which forged such a bond between us, made us like family. And I am grateful to God that He helped me to accomplish such a good deed to the end. I am proud of it. When I think about it, I see that with every step, God was helping us.
A few days after you left us, they took us to Germany to do forced labor. It was horrible, they took me, my husband, and my daughter who was only nine years old. Our son was not home at the time, so he stayed behind. In those times miracles happened.
But all of that is in
the past, and may it never happen again. You suggested that I try to get papers to visit you. I tried to get documents so that I could come to you. I would like very much to see you but it seems impossible, because I am old, my health is poor, and I have chronic bronchitis, and also my legs hurt. That’s how it is with old people. I have all kinds of problems, but one thing that is very lucky for me is that my daughter is very good. I often stay with her. My son lives far away, he visits rarely.
I am very pleased that you live well and I shall pray to God to give you health and good life. I tell you, you are such a good man. There aren’t too many like that in the world. So many years went by, and you still remember me. I am very appreciative of that. You are such a good person. I wish you and your family happiness and good health. I kiss you all.
Your friend,
Lipińska
ABOVE LEFT: Author and his wife, Susie Orenstein.
ABOVE RIGHT: Mark and Annette Orenstein (author’s children).
Edward I. Koch, mayor of New York City, at the dedication of the Orenstein Building.
TOP: The Lejb and Golda Orenstein Building. ABOVE: Lejb and Golda shelter. RIGHT: Plaque at the shelter
Author at the Lejb and Golda Orenstein Building.
From left, Mark, Henry, Susie, and Annette Orenstein.
In the afternoon the baby started crying, and with Germans and Ukrainians all around us roaming the streets, the noise could easily lead them to our hiding place. The baby’s parents took turns rocking her in their arms to quiet her, but nothing helped. The mother tried to cover her with a blanket, but at this she only screamed louder. Finally the mother had to hold her hand over the baby’s mouth, which made her face turn blue, but when the mother lifted her hand for even a second, the baby’s shrieks cut through the air. All of us were panic-stricken. Even her own family began muttering, “This baby is going to get us all killed,” and urged the mother to keep her hand over the child’s mouth. Nobody said so, but the feeling was palpable that if it came to it, the baby should be sacrificed to save the rest of us. This state of things continued for a couple of hours. Each time the baby cried out I cringed; her cries were so loud it was only by a miracle that the hunters didn’t hear them.
By nightfall my family had decided that it was too dangerous to stay where we were. A few blocks away was a small skrytka where an elderly couple we knew were hiding. We took with us some food and water, said good-bye to the others, and left. On the way we passed many houses with the doors standing wide open, just as the search parties had left them after dragging their unfortunate inhabitants out. We moved along very cautiously, hiding in the hallways of the empty houses whenever we heard a noise. When at last we reached our destination, we found that it was a double-wall skrytka, and, as we expected, hiding inside was the elderly couple who owned the house. They were glad to let us in even though our presence made it very uncomfortable for them. There was room for us all to lie down, but just barely. In the attic we had left, there was at least some light coming through from outside; here it was almost totally dark. We had no idea what was happening outside.
We spent the next seven days in the skrytka, and it was awful. We couldn’t wash or change our clothes. We had either to stand or lie flat on the floor. At night we sneaked out one by one to relieve ourselves, but even this was difficult because to reach the outhouse we had to crawl through an open space. Usually we waited until three or four in the morning, when the searchers had stopped for the night. Our greatest fear was of running out of water, and we drank ours very sparingly. Those three days in the tile shop in Uściług had taught us a lesson.
It was heartbreaking to see my parents, who were both sixty, suffering so much, and so stoically. They had lost all hope for themselves, and were concerned only that we should not die. We talked about Fred and Hanka, and how glad we were that the old colonel had taken them in; perhaps with his help they might survive the war.
During the day we could hear the search parties out in the street, but they never entered the house while we were there. The owner told us that they had come to the house on the first day of the action, knocking on the walls, looking everywhere. Then they had left, and hadn’t come back.
As the days passed, the situation grew worse. How long could we stay there, even if the Germans didn’t find us? We were exhausted, dirty, hungry, and thirsty. We discussed the possibility of going out into the fields, but we knew, really, that Father and Mother were both too weak now to survive out there for long.
During our last couple of days in the skrytka conversation came to a virtual standstill. We sat or lay in silence. I was struck repeatedly by how incredible it all was—total strangers remorselessly hunting down people who had done nothing whatsoever to hurt them. The world was mad. Did I want to go on living in it? Bad as things were, though, cruel as the world around us was, the answer was still yes. The thought of being killed and watching others in my family killed petrified me.
Time dragged still more slowly. The street was quieter now, the search parties less frequent. Then, early on the morning of the 28th, we heard a commotion outside and a loud voice shouting, “Amnesty! All Jews can come out of hiding. The action is finished.” We were so exhausted and sick of the skrytka that we decided to come out. We had little to lose; life in the skrytka had become unendurable. We climbed out, washed our faces, and went out into the street, where we met a few neighbors who had also succeeded in hiding from the Germans so far. The Germans and Ukrainians were going around the ghetto announcing that an amnesty had been declared, and all surviving Jews were to go to Gestapo headquarters, which were located in what before the war had been the town jail.
Suddenly, as we were standing there in the street talking to our neighbors, Fred and Hanka appeared, to our surprise and grief. We had thought they at least were safe, and here they were, in the same boat with us.
It seemed that when they arrived at the colonel’s house, they found him in a very bad way and getting worse every day. He knew he was dying, and called in his mistress-housekeeper. In the presence of Fred and Hanka, he made his mistress lay her hand on a large cross hanging behind his bed and swear, by Jesus Christ, that she would continue to permit them to hide out in the house after his death. He had left her everything he possessed in his will, he told her, but only on condition that she keep her promise. A few hours later he was dead.
The next morning the mistress told Fred and Hanka that she was sorry, but she couldn’t let them stay. The Germans were searching every Polish house and threatening to kill anyone caught hiding Jews. Fred begged her to let them stay at least until dark, and she reluctantly agreed. When evening came, they left.
They went to a nearby farmhouse and looked in through a window, where they saw the farmer and his family having dinner. Fred knocked on the window. The farmer came out and recognized them immediately. “You are Orenstein’s children!” he exclaimed. He took Fred and Hanka to his pigsty, so his children wouldn’t know that he was helping Jews, and let them stay there for two days. Then he too started to worry about the danger, and told them they would have to leave. Fred asked him to get in touch with the president of the Polish Landowners Association, hoping that he might find a place for them to hide. The president came to see them and told them of the amnesty. By then Fred and Hanka were also tired of running, and decided to go back to town.
Since the number of Jews left was too small to be sent by train to the gas chambers, we assumed that the Germans would simply shoot those who had emerged from hiding at the news of the amnesty. We were worn out, beaten. The promise of an amnesty didn’t fool us, but we decided to go to the jail anyway, to put an end to our misery.
We started walking over to the jail, all seven of us, the whole family. We walked in silence, like the families I had seen going to the town square at the start of the action. My heart ached to see the grim faces of my parents, my brothers, my young sister. So this was how all our lives, my whole family’s life, was going to end. Shot and then thrown
into a mass grave. “What did we do?” I wanted to cry out in protest. We passed a woman who had occasionally worked for my mother, helping with the laundry. She saw us all walking voluntarily to be executed, and exclaimed, “It’s the Orensteins—all of them!” But she said nothing to us, nor we to her. She knew how prosperous we had been before the war, but that meant nothing now. We were Jews; we had to die. There were very few people in the streets, and in about ten minutes we had reached the jail. Ukrainian guards let us in through an iron gate leading to the yard behind the jail. The gate loudly clanked shut behind us.
In the yard were about a hundred other Jews, all, like us, survivors of the skrytkas who had decided that it no longer made sense to continue hiding out, that the suffering and humiliation were too much to bear. For the first time since the war began I saw some of my school friends: Nirenberg, a short boy with quick, lively eyes and a ready smile; Zajd, with whom I used to play soccer; Zalmen Regel, an earnest, very intelligent boy who was a student in the gymnasium. We sat down on top of a woodpile and talked about old times. We knew we were all going to die in a matter of hours, but no one spoke of it.
I Shall Live Page 13