In 1976, Alex contacted the editors of Time and convinced them of the critical need to locate Mengele. They financed his research as he pursued the trail all over Europe, uncovering important new facts.
From Vienna, where he conferred with Simon Wiesenthal, he went to Poland, where he persuaded the government to open its files on Auschwitz and Mengele’s experiments there. Elated, he brought the evidence home, where I slept innocently with Josef Mengele’s fingerprints and SS files under our bed.
Time published these findings in September 1977, and soon after, Alex began to set down his experiences for a memoir that he hoped would someday help arouse the world’s conscience and lead to Mengele’s arrest. In the meantime, he initiated another Mengele story with Life magazine and spent hours with Dr. Robert Lilton, giving oral testimony for Dr. Lilton’s book on the Nazi doctors. And although at the beginning I had little patience with Alex’s hunt to find Mengele, I could no longer ignore the major theme of his life.
“Live now,” I had urged him. “Remove that tattooed reminder from your arm,” I begged. “Remove my arm,” was Alex’s response. Would I have married him if I had known how his life would be consumed by this obsession?
Yes, I know I would have.
That fateful summer of 1983, we were planning to go to Israel, where a high-ranking intelligence contact had promised Alex access to Israel’s file on Mengele. Before that, the man arrived in New York in June, and when Alex returned home after meeting his plane, I noticed he was distracted, talking of many things but not about Mengele. Nor was he feeling well. He brushed aside my pleadings to go to the hospital when he complained of pain in his left arm. His lack of concern for his own well-being was irresponsible but typical. He always felt immune from the ravages of time and fate-after Auschwitz, what else could happen to him?
When Alex died suddenly after suffering a massive stroke and heart attack, I realized retrospectively what his contact must have told him that night; what the Israeli government already knew: Josef Mengele was dead. I could not help but feel that the hunted had finally caught up with the hunter. This knowledge surely must have broken Alex’s heart, dissolved his resolve to live.
after Alex’s death, I resolved to carry on his mission. I met Lucette Lagnado, whose own interest in Mengele and his child victims paralleled Alex’s. Many events took place in the course of writing this book, including the discovery of Mengele’s remains on June 21, 1985-two years to the day after Alex’s funeral. Their destinies would remain inextricably intertwined in death as they had been in life.
“I am sad and heartbroken,” Elie Wiesel had telegraphed me from Washington when He heard of Alex’s passing. “He was one of our most devoted companions. Few have endured his agony. Few have lived with it as deeply.
For myself and all the members of the United States Holocaust Council, we shall always remember him.” As I sorted through Alex’s papers to gather material for this book, I came across this fragment repeated throughout his notes: Tell your children of it, And let your children tell their children, And their children another generation.
-Joel 1:3 It is this spirit that has guided me in completing his work.
-SHEILA CoHN DEKEL New York City TwINS FATHER: Born 1915 in Budapest, Hungary. Real name: Zyl Spiegel. Family moved to Munkaks, Czechoslovakia. Was twenty nine years old when he and twin sister, Magda, were deported to Auschwitz. Assigned by Dr. Mengele to be in charge of the twin boys. The children called him
“Zvilingefater” or “Twins’ Father.”
MAGDA SPIEGEL: Twin sister of Zyl Spiegel. Married with a seven-year-old son when deported to death camp. Worked as Mengele’s cleaning woman.
HEDVAH AND LEAH STERN: Identical twins. Born in Hungary in 1931. Age thirteen and a half when sent to Auschwitz with their mother. The Stern sisters, as they became known in the camp, are virtually indistinguishable from one another. They speak in one voice, agree completely with what the other says, feel what the other feels, think as the other thinks.
MOSHE OFFER: Born 1932 in small town in Hungary (now a part of Soviet Union). Deported to Auschwitz at age twelve, along with his twin brother, Tibi, parents, and five brothers. Entire family, except for twins, sent immediately to the gas chambers.
zvl THE SAILOR: Born Zyl Klein in Galicia. Not quite thirteen years old when he and identical twin brother, Ladislav, were deported to Auschwitz, along with extended family. All but the twins perished.
Brothers estranged since the war.
EVA MOZES: American founder of CANDLES, the international organiZation of Mengele twins. Launched drive in 1984 to find and reunite all the twins and publicize their story. Born in Cluj, Romania, in 1935.
Deported to Auschwitz in the spring of 1944 along with her identical twin sister, Miriam, her parents, and two older sisters. Entire family slaughtered except for twins. Currently resides in Terre Haute, Indiana.
MIRIAM MOZES: Twin sister of Eva, now living in Israel. Cofounder and organizer of CANDLES in Israel and Europe. Works as head nurse in Israeli hospital. Suffers severe health problems believed due to experiments undergone at the hands of Dr. Mengele at Auschwitz.
JUDITRI YAGUDAH: Born May 25, 1934, in Braov, a small town in what used to be Hungary, but is now part of Romania. Nazis sent entire family to ghetto in Cluj, and from there to Auschwitz. Was ten years old when she, identical twin sister, Ruthie, and parents were deported to Auschwitz. Father killed immediately by Nazis.
Judith and Ruthie sent with their mother to twins’ barracks.
OLGA GROSSMAN: Born in 1938 in Czechoslovakia. Was six years old when deported to Auschwitz with her twin sister, Vera. Family spent time in other concentration camps before Auschwitz. Has absolutely no memories of her stay in the camp, and is unable to talk about the war. Suffers from recurrent hallucinations about Mengele. Frequently institutionalized as an adult.
VERA GROSSMAN: Olga’s fraternal twin sister. Was so different in appearance from her sister that Mengele did not believe they were really twins. Unlike twin, claims to have very vivid memories of Auschwitz. Has no difficulty discussing the war. Outgoing. Active in CANDLES and other Holocaust groups. Travels to Germany to lecture about the twins of Auschwitz. Served as author’s interpreter for all Hebrew-language interviews of Israeli twins.
ALEX DEPEL: Born in Cluj, Romania, in 1930. Age thirteen at time of deportation to Auschwitz. Though not a twin, selected by Mengele to go to the twins’ barracks because of his striking
“Aryan features.
Subjected to medical experiments like the twins.
PETER SOMOGYL: Born in Pecs, Hungary, in 1930. Deported to Auschwitz in the summer of 1944 on one of the last transports of Hungarian Jews.
Mother and sister perished in the gas chambers.
Only Peter and twin brother survived. Extremely popular with Dr. Mengele-he nicknamed them “the intelligentsia” because of their fluency in several languages, their knowledge of classical music, and their ability to play the piano.
VERA BLAU: Was eleven years old when deported to Auschwitz in April 1944 from Czechoslovakia. Arrived with twin sister, Rachel, mother, and little brother. Only twins survived. Vera, an artist in Tel Aviv, insists Mengele “loved” little children.
MENASHE L0R1NCZ1: Born in small town in Romania in 1934.
Shortly after Menashe and twin sister, Lea, celebrated their tenth birthday in the Cluj Ghetto, they and their grandparents were rounded up and deported to Auschwitz. Grandparents immediately killed. Fate of mother unknown. Became a messenger boy for Mengele. One of the few child inmates permitted to wander freely around the death camp.
LEA LORINCZI: Twin sister of Menashe. Became an active Communist in Romania after World War II. Later emigrated to Israel, married ultra-Orthodox man, and joined Hassidic sect.
Moved to Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Now owns ladies’ garment store on Manhattan’s Lower East Side.
EVA KUPAS: Deported to Auschwitz with twin brother in spring 1944.
Birth date unknown
. No recollection of prewar life. Her only memory of the death camp is the day she and other twin girls were taken to pick wildflowers in a field just outside of Birkenau.
SOLOMON MALIK: Deported to Auschwitz in May 1944, at the age of thirteen, along with parents, twin sister, and another pair of twin brothers. Only the four twins survived.
JOSEF MENGErE: Born March 16, 1911, in Gunzburg, Germany.
Son of wealthy factory owner. Became a scientist with a special interest in twins. Volunteered to go to Auschwitz to work as a doctor in the spring of 1943, at age thirty-two. Disappeared after the war.
Also known as Helmut Gregor, G. Helmuth, Fritz Ulmann, Fritz Hollmann, Jose Mengele, Peter Hochbicler, Ernst Sebastian Alvez, Jose Aspiazi, Lars Ballstroem, Friedrich Edler von Breitenbach, Fritz Fischer, Karl Geuske, Ludwig Gregor, Stanislaus Prosky, Fausto Rindon, Fausto Rondon, Gregor Schl;lastro, Heinz Stobert, Dr. Henrique Wollman, and
“Beppo.
I remember picking flowers at Auschwitz. One day a warden took me and a group of twin girls to a nearby field. We picked all sorts of wild flowers. Then we walked around the camp holding bunches of flowers for everyone to see.
And as we were walked through the camp, women prisoners started shouting out names-this name, that name.
They were mothers, you see, and they were looking for their daughters as we passed by.
I heard them cry out,
“Maybe my child is among them.”
-EVA KUPAS, twin at Auschwitz A couple of years after the war, our rabbi in Cluj decided to hold a memorial service for all the Jews from our town who had died in the Holocaust.
The rabbi said that if anyone in the congregation had bars of soap left over from the concentration camp, we should bring it to the temple. He told us it had to be “buried” because it had been made from human flesh.
It was the first time I had heard that. Before we left the camp, my twin sister and I took whatever we could with us. At a time when goods were scarce, I used the soap all the time.
After the rabbi’s address, I felt terrified. I thought,
“Maybe I used soap made from my family.”
For years, I had continuous nightmares. Every night, I dreamt I was washing myself with soap made from my parents or my sister.
-EVA MoZES, twin at Auschwitz Prologue.
THE JAZZ BAR.
ZYL THE SAILOR: All my life, I have tried to run away from Auschwitz.
I have sailed everywhere, from the North Sea to the Tropic of Cancer, the Great Lakes of Michigan to Madagascar.
Montevideo, Johannesburg, Hollywood.
But wherever I went, thoughts of the death camp came back to haunt me.
I try to forget. I try to erase the memories. But I can’t seem to leave Auschwitz behind, no matter how far I go. I find reminders of the camp all over the world. Even right here in Israel.
From the window of my apartment house in Ashdod, I can see a factory-a large industrial plant that manufactures I don’t know what.
Textiles, I think. It has a large chimney which spews out fire at night.
And when I look out my window in the evening, I see not a factory chimney, but the crematorium of Birkenau with its flames, its tall red flames leaping out at the sky.
Last night was Lag b’Omer, the feast of the mystics. The festival of bonfires. Once a year, we Jews are supposed to celebrate the end of the mourning period for our lost sages.
All over Israel yesterday, the little children were celebrating by building bonfires. As I walked along the streets, I watched them joyfully throwing bits and pieces of wood into the flames. They roasted potatoes, sang songs, danced around the fire.
Lag B’Omer is only once a year, but I am always seeing fire. Day and night. All year long.
As I watched the children making their bonfires yesterday, I thought of the fire made OF the children. The fire without wood. The fire of AuschwitzBirkenau.
For four months, forty years ago, I also saw fire day and night. I lived in barracks with a group of twins. Twins! Twins! Dr. Mengele only wanted twins.
Our barracks were located just a few yards away from the crematorium.
We could see it from our window, from our door, wherever we turned we saw fire. Every day and every night those four months, we watched as Mengele motioned people toward this crematorium.
We saw thousands of people going in each day. And not one ever came out.
We were so close to this crematorium that we became friends with the Sonderkommandos, the young boys who worked inside the gas chambers. A few of them were from my hometown in Galicia.
They gave us detailed reports: “Today, we burned ten thousand Jews.
Yesterday, we disposed of eight thousand.”
And every day, they warned us,
“You will be next. Dr. Mengele has decided you should be reunited with your parents.” We believed them.
We were sure that tomorrow, maybe the day after tomorrow, Mengele would send all the twins into the flames.
But even as we expected to die, we continued to obey Mengele. He made us write cheerful postcards: Everything is fine, we wrote to other Jews. We are working.
I see fire everywhere. Although I am at sea, I am consumed by the flames.
Yes, yes, there have been moments when I forgot.
I sailed to the United States a few years ago. My boat docked in New York City. I had a few hours off First, I visited an aunt in Brooklyn.
But I felt restless and uncomfortable. She kept talking and talking, and my mind was elsewhere.
In Auschwitz, I suppose. I finally told her my ship was sailing, and left her house.
I started walking around Manhattan. I was wandering on the West Side, along Eighth or Ninth Avenue, when I saw a large crowd of people standing outside a bar. They were pushing their way in, and I found myself being pushed inside along with them.
Inside, it was dark and cool. I could see musicians lined up on a stage. There were forty, fifty, of them and they were standing in a single straight line. And even though they had no leader, no conductor, they managed to play in perfect harmony.
They were playing music that was not from this earth.
Among the musicians, I noticed
“Satchmo”-Louis Armstrong. I recognized him instantly from photographs.
I ordered a beer. And another. Then another, and another. It was very expensive; you had to leave a tip after each order.
At a table not far from me, there were these two young girls. They sat there, laughing and drinking.
Then, they got up and went over to another table where a couple of young men were sitting, and started kissing them. They embraced to the rhythm of the jazz.
I was in that bar for an hour, the only white man there. I spent sixty dollars-more money than I’ve ever spent in one hour.
Before I even realized what was happening, the same crowd that had pushed itself in, that had pushed me in, got up and left. I was pulled outside with them.
I found myself back on the street. I started walking, and somehow, even though I was quite tipsy, I made it back to my ship.
I have been to New York many, many times since then, and always I have searched for that jazz bar. But I have never been able to find even a trace of it.
I can still remember the music, the atmosphere, the beer, the girls kissing the boys to the beat of Louis Armstrong.
Yes, I was happy then! In fact, never in my life have I been as happy as during the hour I spent inside that dive on the West Side.
Because for one whole hour, I actually managed to forget Auschwitz, and Dr. Josef Mengele…
one.
MENGELE AND HIS CHILDREN.
Nine-year-old Beppo Mengele stood at the Gunzburg railroad station, awaiting the train that would bring in supplies for his father’s factory.
How excited he became when it pulled into the station! The townspeople recall how, in a loud voice, he would order his two brothers to get ready to unload. Young Mengele was always
happy when the transports arrived.
Karl and Walburga Mengele often assigned their oldest boy the task of overseeing the shipment of goods to and from the Mengele farm-equipment factory. Beppo would ride the horse-drawn wagon down to the train station, delighting at the ruckus it caused as it clattered across the cobbled stone streets of the sleepy little town. If it was early in the morning, the residents of Augsburgstrasse, Gunzburg’s main street, were awakened by the noise of the heavy steel parts banging and clanging against one another. They would sigh and mutter affectionately,
“Mengele is coming.” With his dark hair, gleaming eyes, and mischievous grin, Beppo was an endearing child-the most popular of the three Mengele brothers.
At the station, the little boy proved that he deserved the trust his parents placed in him. He watched carefully as the shipments were stacked onto the trains. If a train had brought in supplies, he supervised their loading intO the carriage, making certain nothing was broken or left behind.
It was a grownup job, and young Mengele was said to revel in it.
A quarter of a century later, an older Beppo-SS Dr. Josef Mengele -still delighted at the arrival of trains and their cargoes, but at a different railway stop.
Mo SHE OFFER: I was born in 1932 in a small town in what is now a part of Russia.
My twin brother and I were the youngest of four brothers. We were nicknamed
“Miki and Tibi.”
My family was very wealthy. Father owned a large estate with two plants that manufactured liquor. We grew potatoes and fruit on our farm, and made sweet liqueurs from them.
It was a wonderful life. Each morning, Tibi and I were taken to school by a horse-drawn carriage. We owned two horses!
Then the Germans came in 1944. They took everything from us.
They confiscated our gold, our jewelry, our furniture-all our possessions. We were no longer permitted to live on the farm.
DEKEL, LUCETTE MATALON LAGNADO SHEILA COHN Page 2