by Malka Adler
But Yitzhak would hurry to ask for a fifth and sixth round of toasts, so we’d never get thirsty, and Dov would say, to the State of Israel.
Instead of dessert, we’d drink strong coffee with cookies, and I wouldn’t open my notebook or the tape because in some situations there‘s no strength for other people’s troubles. Maybe I’d say, sometimes we have to drop everything and just look at each other, and smile with our eyes like a good hug and that’s enough.
Chapter 12
Dov
For three months they dragged us along on foot.
I think it was the end of 1944 or, by the height of the snow at the side of the road, the beginning of 1945. I left Jaworzno after six months labor underground, where they lowered me in a basket to dig with my hands and put the soil in the basket. The Germans removed us from Jaworzno because a good transport had arrived and we were no longer useful for work. We walked, just walked. We were like match sticks walking and breaking in the middle. Don’t know why they took us on foot. Maybe because they couldn’t find an available crematorium. At Auschwitz the crematorium had already been dismantled. They cleaned the pits, filling them with the ash of Jews and they prepared grass so their eyes would fill with the color green. Other crematoriums were working and there was no room for more prisoners. They said there were long lines and people waited on the side for a long time, even days, just to get in. There were a few thousands of us and, in the meantime, they walked us around in the snow so we’d die on our own because there was chaos at the end of the war and we were like surplus that had no room.
We left Camp Jaworzno early in the morning. Black clouds were falling from above onto the barracks. A wind that stung like a razor blade traveled across our faces, as if looking for something conspicuous to cut. We left, several thousand silent men. When the first arrived at the forest, the last was just leaving the camp gate. With us were SSmen and dogs. Don’t remember how many, I think there were quite a lot. We wore the striped häftling – prisoner clothing, a striped hat, with a folded blanket on our backs. No coat. The shoes were torn – a worn wooden sole with bits of plastic on top. Jewish men wore a sign on the chest. A small Magen David with Jude written on it. We walked about the distance from Tel Aviv to Eilat and back, but we didn’t know where we were. Sometimes they put us on a train. A closed cattle train, or an open train. Without seats. Among us were Polish prisoners. Some tried to run away when we reached Poland. The Germans ran after them with rifles and whistles like a hunt. I heard shots, heard cursing and firing, but we didn’t stop walking.
On the first days we walked without stopping.
People fell like flies. And then, boom. They got a bullet. Boom-boom. Splayed on the road with their bones sticking out. The bullets didn’t kill. Only sometimes, if they were lucky. I heard the screams of the wounded day and night. Every minute. The sound of shrieking and sobbing settled in my ears, didn’t leave. Even today I have sounds in my ears. We went to sleep, got up, and the sound remained. The words were the same, oy, Mamaleh, oy, Papa, Grandpa, Grandma. Sometimes they said names, oy my Elizabeta, oy Ilona’leh, oy Yuda’leh, Yudah’leh. I tried to walk at the side of the road, closest to the field. I didn’t want to walk beside tall prisoners who would dig their elbows into me, I’d have shattered like glass. Especially when they handed out bread every two or three days. I always sat on the side. We saw no water.
We weren’t thirsty when it snowed. We sucked snow. When it rained, we walked with mouths open to the rain, the neck hurt. I don’t remember secretions. At night we slept in prison camps along the way, don’t know the names. In the morning the prisoners left the camp with us and their SSmen and the dogs. Sometimes we slept in the snow, the forest, or at the side of the road, or in the blanket we carried on our backs. The blanket was wet, dirty. I was afraid of catching some brain sickness that would give me worms. Not all the time, but they did sometimes come for a visit and then disappear.
The tall ones also behaved as if they had a visit from worms. Prisoners peeled the bark from trees and put it in their mouths, scratched a frozen plank with their nails and licked, ate a piece of their trousers, a piece of a sleeve. One prisoner began to eat himself. He bit his arm, ripped the skin, and chewed and chewed. He had blood on his chin. At the second bite he got a bullet. The dogs in the convoy were given an order, and hop, they were all on top of him. The dogs pushed, whined, tore at one another because the prisoner was small and thin, not enough for all of them. The SSmen approached the dogs, signaling with their fingers. I understood the signs, they were betting on the dogs. Like the goys in my village who would bet on a winning race-horse. The noise of the dogs is stuck in my ears to this day.
Our SSmen ate well. By the length of time they sat, the tins they opened, the paper packages they threw away, they ate well. We received bread and nothing else. Beside me walked two young, rather good-looking prisoners. At night I saw them going to the SSmen. In the morning they returned with red cheeks and socks. Their pockets were bulging. The tallest prisoners didn’t come near them. The tallest prisoners only dug their elbows into the small ones with pale cheeks, like me.
Boom. Boom. Boom-boom. Piles of thin stripes without spaces but with excrement smeared on the road. We were a long convoy like the dense carriages of a hundred trains, a thousand trains, a million trains, and a hundred million screams of prisoners about to die. The noise in my ears came back, bvoooom Bvoooom. Rosy’leh, Meide’leh, bvoooom. In the meantime worms and ants came to me. They traveled from one ear to the other, finally making a home in my forehead. I realized I was going mad, but what I feared most was that the SSman would look at me.
They had slits for eyes. SSman narrowed his eyes in front of me and I felt like a fly, a mosquito, that must be crushed, dirt on the sole of boots. Du Arschloch – you arse-hole, they said to us. You arse-hole, get in line.
Mann, beiße den Hund – man, bite the dog, said SSman to his dog, pointing at someone. The dog understood every word, and bit. Even when we were frozen and without flesh. Even when we had lice on our skin, it bit.
We reached Weimar by train, the station before Buchenwald. I lay in an open car and waited for the angel of death. I counted fingers up to a hundred and then counted backwards to zero. I remembered home less and less. Forgot which village I came from. Who was there and how many siblings I had. I forgot where my brother was, the name of my best friend. I jerked my head upwards to jog my brain. Jogged it several times. Made motions with my lips, Mama was called Leah, Papa was called Israel, I have one brother Yitzhak that’s all. My mind got stuck. I shook my head with both hands and Sarah came in, and that was that.
Airplanes approached the train. Maybe six planes, but there could have been sixty. I counted one, two, three, didn’t kill me. Didn’t count anymore.
The planes threw bombs. Above me I saw black and an explosion of bright light and smoke. I heard whines like an alarm, ah, a siren. I sat up and glanced out at the platform. The Germans were jumping from the train to find shelter. I realized, here, this is a chance to look for food. I jumped after the Germans.
I ran along the track as if I had a battery up my ass. I had no fear in my heart. I wanted to find food. If I had to die, at least I’d die full.
The whistles all around hurt my ears. Train tracks flew into the air. Bits of iron stuck in the cars, in a wall opposite me, in the floor. Everything was full of thick, stinking smoke. I barely saw the roof of a house burning opposite me like a torch. A jet of water flew to the other side. I heard windows breaking, tossing out glass rain. I heard the screams of the wounded who wanted a savior or a Messiah. I heard a dog howling but continued to run, my ears half-closed.
On a side-track stood closed cars. I heard a terrible whistling, and boom! A bomb fell on one of the carriages. A rain of cabbages flew above the car. I looked for shelter but was too late. A cabbage hit me right on the head. I got a hard blow and fell into great darkness.
I woke up, don’t know how long it was.
I got up
from the track. My head swam, I wanted to throw up. I straightened up and continued running into the suffocating smoke, ah. Avrum. I had a good older brother who was called Avrum and I want to eat as we did in the village. I looked for houses. On the platform in front of me stood a two-story house with windows covered in dark fabric. I approached the house, checked behind me and knew I was alone. I grabbed the door handle, it opened. I didn’t know if there was anyone in the house, I went in.
I saw a sofa, armchairs, a closet. I opened the closet, clothes. To one side were stairs with a rail. I ran upstairs. The strong smell of food almost dropped me to the stairs. I found a warm, steaming kitchen with a large pot on the fire. My nose began to run like a tap. I wiped it with my sleeve. I lifted the lid of the pot. Boiling soup. I thrust my frozen hands into the soup. Fire. I grabbed what I could and threw it into my mouth. Couldn’t taste anything. Just a terrible burning on my tongue. I thrust my hands back into the soup. I swallowed boiling vegetables without chewing. I felt as if huge scissors were ripping me open from throat to belly. The pain continued to my groin but I put my hands back in the soup. I found a large carrot at the bottom of the pot. I put the carrot under my armpit and walked around the kitchen. I found no bread. Suddenly I saw a small harmonica on the table. I remembered having one like it. I thrust the harmonica into my pocket and went downstairs.
SSman was coming up the stairs towards me.
I saw hatred in his eyes. I saw holes with trembling walls in his nose. I saw a purple mark on each cheek. He held a gun. I didn’t stop. Passed him and continued down. He didn’t bother me and I didn’t bother him. I heard him coming down behind me. The muzzle of a gun stuck in my back. I raised my hands. The carrot fell to the floor. I thought, this is the end for me. Pray. My mouth burned, the skin peeled into flakes, and more flakes, and I was mainly sorry about the carrot. I thought, at least I will die full. I almost smiled.
I continued onward. The SSman’s gun pressed hard into my ribs. My legs began to tremble. I felt a strong tingling like a cold needle from the hollow in my neck along my spine. I could feel the hot breath of the SSman on my neck. It had the sharp smell of cigarettes. I couldn’t understand why the SSman didn’t shoot me. I finished going downstairs, passed through the living room, walked out through the door with him behind me. A second SSman waited on the platform, turning his rifle in his hands. He had a large mouth like a wolf waiting to devour. I went on walking. Reached the second SSman, he raised his gun and thwack. The blow exploded on my back. I fell to the floor. I saw a part of the rifle’s butt falling next to me and everything went dark. I got up in the dark seeing sparks and began to run. I fell. Got up. Continued to run in the direction of the screams. I grabbed the door and climbed into a car that had been bombed. There were between twenty and thirty dead prisoners. I arranged some of the dead like a bed and lay on them to rest. I felt as if I was at a holiday resort with a smell of sewage.
The train set out and only then did I understand it all.
The SSman didn’t shoot me because of the mess. He took pity on the Germans who lived in that house. He didn’t want to leave the blood of a dirty Jew on the staircase. I wanted to tell my brother Yitzhak that Jewish blood can sometimes save you from certain death. I fell asleep. I slept for an hour, two hours. Slept with a good full stomach. I even had to shit. I pushed two of the dead aside, making a space between them. A hole formed in the space. I shat into my own private hole. Then I wiped my ass with the clothes of the dead. Finally I rolled another of the dead from the side like a lid on top and I felt good.
Israel, 2001
08:25 stopping in Binyamina.
I’m on the way to Nahariya.
To Haifa? Is this the platform to Nahariya?
Here. Here. The journey northward on an interurban. The platforms always confuse me.
People pour from the carriages like sunflower seeds from a packet. They stream towards an underground passage, the platform is being renovated and it’s crowded. I look around me. Don’t like crowds. Even less this past year. I’m terrified of bombs. I look at ordinary people to see if there’s a bulge in their coats, check the faces of people next to me, do they hate or are they killers? They hate. They’re killers. Play head-games, kill or hate, in the end it’s kill and the nightmare begins.
Dov would say, don’t worry, they have security checks at the entrance to the station, and there are cameras, and soldiers, calm down. I can’t calm down on the platform. Can’t change trains at Binyamina and stay calm. I love trains, only the crowdedness at Binyamina makes me angry, I’m afraid to be ripped apart on the platform with birds singing pooeey-pooeey-pooeey, with the good smell of eucalyptus leaves and the loudspeaker calling, attention, attention, and booooom! Terror attaaaaack.
Don’t want to be put into a huge black plastic bag, don’t want life and death in a random hand, no.
“She came in by chance. Stood there by chance. By chance she sat in the coffee shop at a side table, lingered by chance, got a call on her phone, and then her bag was caught on the chair, and that saved her life.”
If Dov was beside me he’d say, just like the ramp at Auschwitz. By chance they needed laborers for a developing factory that day. By chance that day there was no room in the barracks. By chance the SSman in the white gloves was talking to someone on the side, forgot to point a finger to the left, the line advanced alone.
But I wouldn’t tell Dov or Yitzhak about the platform at Binyamina, better to stay silent. I’d say, you know what, it’s actually fun on the train, I pray I’ll be alone in the carriage, I like being alone. And then Yitzhak would say, what’s the problem. I get up before the stars disappear, drink my coffee alone, don’t make a sound, then I sit alone next to my son who is holding the steering wheel of the truck. My son has his mobile phone and his errands and I sit quietly and the road stretches out by itself. And then Dov would say I also sit alone on the bench at the infirmary and wait half an hour to get a doctor’s prescription for my brother Yitzhak, good health to him.
And I’d say, but there is no being alone on a train, it’s always full, and I can’t bear the talking. And Yitzhak would say, me too, can’t listen to people for a long time, I get mad quickly, as if I had a rifle muzzle up my ass. And Dov would say, I don’t have the energy to listen to other people’s troubles, even if they’re close to me, suppose I was sitting on a bench, and someone comes to me with his crying, and he starts talking, and my ears are bursting. I feel as if hot blood was leaking out of my ears, it’s the ears that can’t bear to hear any more crying. At the infirmary they gave me pills, gave me drops, and in the end they said, you have to get used to it. And Yitzhak would say, me too, I don’t have the energy for people to touch me with their talking and say, listen to this, and listen to that, and that. What we saw in the camps and what we heard in the camps was enough for a lifetime.
For me too.
What about you?
The same, I’m adult and I’ve heard enough.
09:35 Nahariya train station.
I arrived safely. Thank God.
Dov, how are you?
They’re killing Jews.
What?
They’re killing Jews. Don’t you listen to television? They’re blowing up Jews in the middle of a street in the State of Israel. Haven’t you heard?
Chapter 13
Dov
We were three months on the journey from Jaworzno in Poland to Buchenwald in Germany.
They dragged us on foot who knows how many kilometers, we were loaded onto open trains, that way they managed to kill almost everyone on the roads. We were about two thousand when we set out from Jaworzno and we reached Buchenwald with only a hundred and eighty prisoners. At the gate to Camp Buchenwald I heard the number. SSman pointed to me, saying a hundred and seventy. I remember turning around. Ten prisoners were behind me, no more. I was among the few who remained alive because of miracles.
One miracle happened at the beginning of the march. We walked for three days without
drinking water. I thought I’d die of thirst. Suddenly I heard a familiar sound, a sound I remembered from my village, like from a hundred years ago, a happy, strong sound, like a choir: I heard the kwaaa-kwaaa of frogs. Kwaa-kwaa. Kwaaaaaa-kwaaaaaa. Kwaaaaaa. And a sharp whistle burst from my mouth. I forgot I was with the Germans. I pressed my hand to my mouth, jumped to the side and saw a small puddle at the edge of the road. I threw myself on the puddle and put my face into the water. I managed to take one sip, and then boom! And a burning heat near my ear. A rifle bullet had scratched the edge of my ear. Raising my head I saw the black muzzle of a rifle aimed at me. The rifle was in the hands of a fat SSman with folds of fat at his neck. He stood five meters away from me. Maybe less. He cursed in German and I ran to the convoy.
At the end of that day we were fewer than five hundred prisoners. Some fell without a bullet. Some got it after they fell. Most of them got a bullet right before the first bread. I saw Germans emptying entire magazines on our convoy, just like that. Maybe they didn’t have enough bread for the whole convoy that had walked for three days without water or bread.
Another miracle happened in the open car.
Airplanes descended on us with machine guns. The train stopped. The SSmen jumped out to take shelter, I jumped out after them and hid under the car. The noise of the machine guns burst in my ears. The screams of prisoners who didn’t have time to jump hurt me more than the noise, even more than the hunger. I pressed my hands over my ears and made myself scream, aaaah. Aaaah. I wanted to look for food and I couldn’t get out because the place was on fire. I sat crouching on the track and asked for a miracle. A meter away from me was a green lump. I didn’t understand what it was. I lifted up the dirty lump with my hands, blew phoo, phoo, phoo. A cloud of green smoke went up. I couldn’t breathe. I started coughing as if I was sick. I moved back, in the meantime the dust dispersed. Aha! A whole loaf of bread was in my hand. A large loaf of bread with mold on the outer crust. I checked out the situation and saw I was alone with my treasure. As if I’d been given two weeks’ worth of bread. I swallowed all the bread and new life came to my poor belly.