On September 1, 1939, war broke out between Poland and Germany.

Our family started to flee the incoming Germans and were bombarded by
the Nazi air force all the way to Rzeszow. The Germans were faster and
blocked our escape. We returned back home to Makow. Our town was
invaded by the Germans within a few days. The Jews soon realized that
life under occupation would be grim indeed. No one ever imagined it
would turn out to be so bloody. Every day brought reports of atrocities
being committed, shootings of innocent people in nearby towns.

Makow was spared in the beginning, but not for very long.

When the war started, I was 16 years old. I had a beautiful family: a
sister, Hessa who was 18 years old and parents. Father's name was
Eliasz, mother's was Braindl. We had a lumber export business, chemical
farm fertilizers and building materials. We were considered well off
and respected by the townspeople. The Germans confiscated everything
they could lay their hands on. We found ourselves stripped of all our
possessions and for food had to barter clothing, linen, etc. At times,
local farmers who knew us brought some potatoes and bread. A Judenrat
(Jewish Council) was established in Makow at the order of the Gestapo.
They nominated an Obmann (Chairman), Beno Pastor. Asked to join, my
father categorically refused. Every day, the Germans gave orders to the
Judenrat demanding money, jewelry, furs, furniture, works of art and
free labor. Every Jew in town from 16 to 60 was obligated work, without
pay, of course. Makow had a population of approximately 5,000, of which
500 were Jews. All Jews had to wear a white armband with a blue Star of
David.

In 1941, the Jewish population was about 450. This was a resort town,
near Rabka and Zakopane. For some reason, our town was lucky, there
were no killings as yet. All this changed drastically with the start of
war with Russia in 1941.

At that time, the Gestapo took over the villa Marysin and made it its
headquarters. The chief was named Schmidt. Every day, someone was
beaten, arrested or shot. The first one to be murdered was the Shochet
of Makow, Mr. Mann, for ritually killing a chicken. A short time later,
an elderly couple, Eliezer and Liba Grubner were murdered for selling
yard goods in exchange for food. They raided a farm house in Bialka on
the outskirts of town, wiping out the entire family of Artur Edelstein,
an attorney, his wife, son and daughter. Everyone was very fearful.

In the first week of December 1941, the Gestapo demanded twenty men to
be sent to Auschwitz concentration camp for work. Father was arrested,
but released. We were so happy they let him go, we could hardly believe
it. My father said, " I don't trust them. It must be a trick." The
next day, early in the morning, all of us, men, uncles, cousins, seven
in all, went into hiding at the farm of Polish friends, Salapatek, who
helped us many times. That same day, two Gestapo men showed up at our
house asking for me. My mother told them that I was at work. They said
very politely to report to them in the evening and bring all my
documents to be checked. My mother asked innocently if there was
anything wrong. They said, "No, just checking." Naturally, I stayed in
hiding, never slept or ate at the same place, afraid of being caught.
Of the twenty men arrested and sent to Auschwitz, nobody survived. All
were dead within two weeks' time and their ashes were returned to their
families for which they had to pay.

In Rabka Zdroj, a similar situation existed, but on an even more cruel
and much larger scale. In 1940, the Gestapo confiscated a large
building, St. Teresa school, and a couple of villas near a forest. This
place became a training school for SS Gestapo (Sicherheit Polizei) in
occupied Poland. The sole purpose of this school was to teach how to
torture and kill people. From here, murderers were sent out to other
places to torture and kill. Chief of this "college" was Wilhelm
Rosenbaum. In 1942, at age 25, he held the fate of thousands of Jews in
his hands. In Rabka, he murdered around 1,000 Jews. Nearby, Nowy Targ
had another murderer, Heinrich Hamann, who butchered hundreds of Jewish
people.

In Makow, we lived in fear, not knowing whose turn would be next. On
April 28, 1942, large contingents of Gestapo arrived early in the
morning in towns of southern Poland: Rabka, Nowy Targ, Nowy Sacz,
Makow, etc. They took Jewish people out of bed to the Gestapo, where
they were shot. Being on the list of hostages, they came to get me. I
made the mistake of sleeping at home that night. They knocked on the
door and shouted, "Aufmachen!" ("Open up!") Thinking that they were
probably looking for men, my sister pushed me toward the window and
urged me to jump out and escape. My father also jumped out and we hid
in the cellar. When they opened the door, my mother was too stunned to
answer, but my sister spoke up, saying that she did not know our
whereabouts. They told her to get dressed and to come along. She was
taken to the villa Marysin, which housed the Gestapo. After it quieted
down upstairs, we came out of the cellar. Upon learning that my sister
was arrested, I went to surrender myself so that she be freed. My
parents were against that. My father made a notation in a Holy Book,
saying that his daughter was arrested and he hoped that she would not be
harmed, that perhaps she will only be sent off to work. On my way to
surrender myself, I met a former Polish policeman, who asked me where I
was going. I told him. He said that it was already too late; all
hostages, including my sister, were shot immediately against the wall of
the Gestapo building, ten men and two women. He said that if I went
there, they would do the same to me. I went home, very sad and
expressed, but kept quiet, not being able to relay such terrible news to
my parents. The Polish neighbors knew and also kept quiet. About three
weeks later, my father found out from a Volksdeutch, who worked for the
Gestapo. How my parents took this is very hard for me to describe.
Father made another notation in the Holy Book, giving the date and
describing what happened. In case someone survived, Kaddish (Memorial
Prayer) could be said for my sister. The Holy Book was found after the
war by a friend of mine, and because it had our business seal with the
name on it, he knew it belonged to us. He found me and mailed it to me.

In 1941, the Gestapo raided the house of Warenhaupt, who was a barber in
town. He had four sons, one of whom, Dolek, lost his life on the front
in 1939. Three were active in the Underground. One day, while visiting
their parents in Makow, the Gestapo came to arrest them. They jumped
the two Gestapo men, banging their heads together, thereby knocking them
out. They escaped. Two of them, Kuba and Heniek, survived the war.
Maniek was recognized in Katowice, in late 1942, while cutting hair in a
barber shop. That same Volksdeutch who told my father the "news" about
my sister, recognized Maniek Warenhaupt and shot him on the spot. Some
time later, the brothers Kuba and Heniek, together with partisan friends
came to Makow. They took this murderer out in the middle of the night,
read him the Underground death sentence and shot him for the murder of
their brother.

The weather in the months of May, June and July 1942 was beautiful. All
was in bloom. But at the same time, ominous clouds were gathering over
the Jewish people. Everyone felt that something terrible was about to
happen. During that summer, my father and I were on a list of employees
at a brush factory, supposedly employed. The owner, Mr. Emil Pierog,
was my father's friend from school. This used to be a brick factory and
the tall chimney served to hide the antenna of the Polish Underground
radio transmitter. Mr. Pierog was a leader in the Underground, but we
did not know it at that time.

I was afraid to go home, staying away to avoid capture. One day, it was
August 1, 1942, there was a commotion near our house. Noticing a local
unarmed policeman, I asked him what was going on. He told me that my
mother was arrested and held at the prison, the reason being that the
Gestapo had me on their list of three men who were needed in Rabka. I
told him, "You can take me with you, but make sure my mother is freed."
He kept his promise. Mother cried and was very upset about my
surrender. I told her not to worry, it might be safer for me in Rabka
and it was only for work. That same policeman escorted me to Rabka
camp. Before boarding the train, my aunt, Kaila Kuhnreich Lebron, her
husband Jonas, son Romek, and daughter Henia, who had come to stay with
us to avoid going to the Cracow ghetto, gave me postcards, with
instructions that I should write when I arrived, so that my parents
would not worry. It was strictly forbidden to do that, but the
policeman mailed it for me. On the second day of August, 1942, I found
myself together with one hundred young men between 18 and 28 in the
Rabka camp. We had to be ready for work at six o'clock in the morning.
Breakfast consisted of dark warm water, nothing else. At noontime,
there was soup and one slice of bread which had to last the entire day.
We were building a sports complex and to work 14-15 hours a day at a
fast pace, seven days a week. Armed guards watched us and beat us for
no reason at all. They told us how much had to be accomplished every
day; if not, ten of us would be shot. If they thought that you worked
too slowly, you were shot on the spot. At times, the Gestapo brought
large transports of Jews from nearby towns to be executed in the
forest. We were forced to dig the ditches, then bury the victims. We
were forced to watch a hanging of ten innocent people. This was part of
Wilhelm Rosenbnaum's entertainment. Besides being exhausted, desperate
and horrified, we were also starved all the time. Some of our people
could not take it and committed suicide. Many were on the brink of it.
When leaving for Rabka, I had promised my cousin, Henia Lebron, that I
would write another card to the address of our Polish neighbor, Mr.
Kokot, and that I would tell how it was at the camp. I wrote that it
would have been better for me to have gone where my sister Hessa was.
They understood my message. I received two food packages from home; at
the time, I did not know that it had been smuggled in by Mrs. Genowefa
Pierog, who risked her life doing it. She was the wife of my father's
friend, Mr. Emil Pierog. Mrs. Pierog, with her two daughters, survived
the war, but her husband, Emil, was arrested in the summer of 1944, sent
to Zakopane, tortured, then executed in the Montelupich prison in Cracow
for Underground activities.

The other two men from Makow, besides myself, sent to Rabka, were
Feingold and Fischer. Rumors began circulating that any day now, the
whole southern part of Poland would become Judenrein (free of Jews).
The feared end came on a sunny Sunday, September 1, 1942. Wilhelm
Rosenbaum and his cohorts assembled all Jews from Rabka at our camp. He
also removed from the camp anyone with red hair, which he especially
hated, those who wore glasses, and, in general, anyone who did not pass
his scrutiny. They were all herded of on a freight train to their final
destination, Belzec. One of the three from Makow, Feingold, was among
those taken, because he happened to have red hair. That same day, the
Jews of Makow, about 160 in number, were packed into freight cars after
being ordered by SS Officer Heinrich Karhof to assemble at the railroad
station. Among them was Szmuel Zainwel Beer, the Rabbi of Makow. All
were sent to the crematorium in Belzec. Out of 600,000, not one person
survived.

About 92 Jews escaped into the surrounding villages. They could not
hide out for very long. They were captured and gathered up at the villa
Marysin, the Gestapo headquarters. They were kept in the cellar under
inhuman conditions for two to three weeks, then taken out into the yard,
one at a time, and shot. All were killed and buried right there. The
Obman of the Makow Judenrat, Beno Pastor, shot himself. One Jewish
woman was saved by the stationmaster of Makow. He received a medal from
Yad Vashem in Jerusalem after the war. Jewish workers in Zakopane were
all executed on that fateful day of September 1, 1942, among them, my
cousin, Romek Lebron.

I was one of 100 men left in the Rabka camp for the time being. The
atmosphere among us was that of hopelessness. We knew that the past had
been destroyed forever and we did not see any future. Even the Gestapo
looked depressed, for there were no more Jews to be killed. Here and
there, some were dragged out of hiding, from bunkers, but very few in
comparison to the past, and that made the SS unhappy. Also, they did
not relish the idea of going to fight at the front. Three of us,
Unterberger, Schiff and I, were assigned as gardeners for Rosenbaums's
girlfriend, Ann Marie Bachus.

A villa belonging to a rich Pole was confiscated for their love nest.
It had a big orchard. We were to work, doing gardening, picking and
storing the fruit in the basement. Every morning, we were escorted by
an armed guard to work and back.

The three of us wanted some apples, but all were afraid, until I got
careless and before leaving work, I stuffed some into my knickers' legs
down in the basement. It seems the guard must have noticed and promptly
reported me. Rosenbaum and his girlfriend, with other SS, were having a
dinner party upstairs. One SS came down to check it out. He ordered me
to open my knickers and the apples fell out. Seeing the crime, he
punched me hard in the jaw a couple of times and said not to do this
ever again. Next time, just ask. Of course, I never did. After a
while, we thought that this episode had been forgotten. Rosenbaum did
not. One evening, after 9:00 P.M., armed guards came to tell the three
of use and seven others who must have sinned, that Rosenbaum wanted to
see us in his office. We cried, said good-bye to our friends and
thought that this must be the end. The guards took the ten of us to the
Gestapo building. We waited in the hallway in utter terror. We saw
Polish prisoners brought in for interrogation and heard their screams;
they looked awful. Around midnight, Rosenbaum showed up with a cane in
his hand. We were lined up in a row, each one was hit with the cane
over the head, once forward and once back. Two huge bumps swelled up on
each head. I had one bump, being at the end of the line. It was
painful and we had swollen heads, but were glad to be left alive. We
returned to the camp and went to work the next day as usual. This was a
first in the history of this camp. We still worked on the sports
complex which was carved out of a forest.

In the middle of February 1943, the camp was ordered to be divided in
half. Fifty workers were sent to the Plaszow concentration camp. I
even volunteered, thinking about escape. There was no chance at all.
Two armed guards went along on the two covered trucks. It took several
hours to arrive at Plaszow. The camp was located on an old Jewish
cemetery. We were told to stay put, with armed guards with dogs all
around us. The place looked eerie, with people moving like shadows in
the muddy camp, starved and dirty. Of course, the basic aim of the
Nazis was to drive the prisoners to a "natural" death, after first
exploiting them as slave labor. This was a work camp as compared to
Auschwitz-Birkenau, Majdanek, Stutthof, Gross-Rosen, Belzec, Sobibor,
Chelmno and Treblinka near Warsaw. Those places were set up for mass
murder of human beings and disposal of their corpses. Here in Plaszow,
barracks were being put up everywhere. Some were for living quarters,
some were for workshops. It held 8,000 prisoners. The few homes on the
edge of town were occupied by the Nazi Commandant, Amon Goeth, and his
henchmen. The workshops included metal works, carpentry and a sewing
factory for military uniforms. The place never slept nor rested. I was
assigned to various jobs every day; building a road with cemetery
headstones or going to the Cracow ghetto, which still had a small amount
of Jews left after the last action to Auschwitz in late 1942. My
situation and that of others from Rabka became dangerous, since we had
no permanent assignment. At any time now, we could be liquidated as
unnecessary. My two friends, Schiff and Kaufman, were planning to
escape if we got the chance.

I knew Cracow well, having studied there for two years before the war.
I used to stay with aunt Kaila and her family on Ditlowska Street # 36.
One evening, as we were returning from work, I noticed that the guards
were not paying too much attention. We still wore our civilian
clothes. I quickly hid my Star of David armband into my pocket and told
my friends to go for it. They hesitated. I stepped out of line onto
the sidewalk, walking along with the rest, like a civilian. I had to
act quickly. I jumped on the first trolley that went to the railroad
station. I did not have any money, so I begged 10 groszy (cents) from a
passerby. This was enough for a pass to the platform. I had no money
for a ticket. I boarded the train for Makow without documents, without
a ticket and starving. The passenger cars were dark, lucky for me, with
only the conductor having a flashlight to check and punch the tickets.
On this train, the conductor could not care less. The car was jammed
with young Polish workers returning home from their work for the night.
Most were tired and slept, some ate their bread, others just rested. No
one talked. As the train neared Makow, it became scary for me, the
enemy was everywhere and my family was gone. I was hoping that maybe I
would be able to find someone of my family who was in hiding. When we
reached Sucha, the train stopped for a border check. Border police
checked travel permits and work papers. They were shouting outside and
the Polish workers were afraid not to be taken away to Germany to work
(Zwangsarbeit). I told them that I had no work permit, what shall I
do? I had an idea to go out on the steps at the other side of the car
and they latched the door behind me. I crouched low on the steps while
the police were checking inside. They checked the door, looked with a
flashlight into the glass pane which was thick with ice, but did not
open the door. I was left on the steps, forgotten, no one opened the
door, and I rode into Makow, starved and freezing from the cold. I
avoided the station, made a left turn to the village of Grzechynia. I
covered a distance of two kilometers in about one half hour, avoiding
the town. I went to see Mr. Pierog. When they opened the door for me,
they could not believe it! They were happy to see me, but were
frightened to have me in their house. The whole family could be shot
for harboring a Jew. I told them of my desperate situation, having no
papers, or money without which one could not move. Mr. Pierog gave me a
large sum, all he could find in the house, some potato pancakes for the
road, and promised to get me papers and a place to stay, should I not be
able to find one on my own. I was back on the street. I went to Makow
to our house. I went inside and was ready to knock on our door, but
heard strange voices inside and was soon shocked back into reality. I
did not live here anymore, my family was gone forever. I went up into
the attic to hide. After dark, I came down, quickly started walking,
turning right in the direction of Bialka, to the farm of Salapatek,
where we had hidden in 1941.

The farm was located far off the road, and that would be safer for me
now. I reached the farm late in the evening. They welcomed me with
open arms. They were happy to see me alive! The family consisted of a
deaf mute mother, a son and a daughter in their early forties. The son
worked as a clerk in the courthouse in Makow, the daughter worked on the
farm. Seeing the condition I was in, they heated up water on the wood
stove, poured it into a large wooden tub in the kitchen, made me take
off my dirty underwear and get into the tub. I was a bit shy, but
mother and daughter both scrubbed me clean with soap. It felt great to
have a bath. Mr. Salapatek gave me a set of his warm underwear, a shirt
and socks to put on. I thanked them many times over. They said that
they were glad to help in times like these. My arrival must have
interrupted their supper. They all sat down to eat and I was invited to
eat with them. We had potatoes, cabbage and milk. They could not get
over how starved I was. A whole loaf of homemade black bread with
butter was served, and slice after slice, I finished the bread. They
stopped eating, watching me devour everything. It was decided that it
would be safest for me to sleep in the barn. I was given a blanket and
I went to sleep in the straw next to the two cows. The next morning,
the daughter led me to a small cottage about 100 yards which was not
used in the winter, since it had no heat. But it was safe. During the
day, I was hiding there and at night, I went into the house for a warm
meal and to sleep in the barn. Mr. Salapatek brought me newspapers and
told me the latest news. After about ten days, I asked if it would be
alright with them if I brought my two friends, Schiff and Kaufman. They
agreed.

I said good-bye to the Salapatek family on March 10, 1943. I went to
the station in Makow to buy a ticket for Cracow. While standing in
line, I noticed a former Polish policeman in civilian clothes, his name
was Sczelczyk, watching at the exit door. He looked in my direction. I
became very apprehensive and disappeared in a wink through the other
door. I found out later that this man did indeed work for the Gestapo.
I went back to our house, to our neighbor, Mr. Kokot, who lived on the
second floor. He was not at home. I told the family that I needed a
ticket, but was afraid to stay in line. Their son, Czeslaw, about 12
years old, said he would do it for me. I trusted him. I gave him the
money and told him where I would be waiting. He got out of bed, got
dressed and went to the station to buy a ticket for me. I took the
train for Cracow. It was dark and that felt safer. We stopped in
Sucha, and this time, no one checked. The train stopped one station
before, Podgorze, and did not go any further. It was close to 9:00
P.M., curfew in Cracow, except for Germans. I stayed nearby at a hostel
for Polish workers who were going to Germany. It was provided free by
the city. I joined the others, and got an iron bed and blanket for the
night. They said their prayers, crossing themselves. I could not do
that. I busied myself making up the bed. When the lights were off, I
said my prayer (Krishma). I could not sleep, worrying about how to get
into the ghetto.

Getting in proved much easier than leaving. A group was going to work
inside. I put my armband on and walked right in with them.

The Cracow ghetto in March 1943 was crammed with about 8,000 to 9,000
Jews, in rundown buildings, on a few short streets. I could not find my
friends anymore, and had to sleep in an attic with other homeless Jews.
Food was impossible to find. After two days, on March 13, 1943,
Commandant Amon Goeth issued orders to vacate the ghetto. No one could
come or leave, the ghetto was sealed off. All were ordered to assemble
at the exit by 11:00 A.M. Anyone who disobeyed would be shot.

People were desperate, running around, trying to find a hiding place to
save themselves. In this confusion, I heard someone call my name. It
was Rottenberg from Rabka with his girlfriend. He suggested I hide with
them in a small basement under the floor of an apartment. We did not
have much time, as it was already about 10:00 A.M. The whole floor was
littered with papers and rags. We crawled in and closed the opening
over our heads with the trap door. There was just enough space for the
three of us, with no room to move. We heard the shouts of the SS:
"Raus!" ("Out!") An old couple was gathering up their possessions,
ready to leave. They pleaded, "We're coming, don't shoot!" The SS
left. A few minutes later, another group of SS came and shot them right
over our heads. They lay there, blocking our exit until the next day.
Workers came and took them to the cemetery in Plaszow. For a few days,
SS and police were hunting down people hiding in bunkers or cellars and
shooting them on the spot. During the day, we did not move. At night,
we crawled out and rummaged the apartments for some food. At daybreak,
we went back under the floor, trying to survive another day. This went
on for about a week. One day, the SS and police came to search again.
We heard one of the collaborators telling the SS where the floor opening
was. The SS had had no idea since they did not have cellars like this
in Germany. They lifted the trap door, ordered us outside and told us
we were lucky not to be shot on the spot. They took us to the jail
instead. The jail outside the ghetto already had about 300 people
waiting to be sent to the Plaszow concentration camp. There were all
sorts of rumors: We would be sent to Germany to work in factories due
to a shortage of workers, or we would be sent to Plaszow to work in
different shops, which would not be so bad. Of course, I knew better,
having just escaped from Plaszow. I kept quiet. I did not trust anyone
and did not say anything. I would to mention here that running away, as
I did, carried the penalty of death by hanging. On the last day of
March, 1943, we were ordered to be ready by noontime to go to Plaszow.
Most of us were resigned to it. The barbers in prison gave us haircuts
before leaving in order to look neat and more presentable. Maybe some
of us would be spared. I remember one barber insisted on giving me a
nice close shave. He said that in this way, I would have a better
chance to be picked for work. Being an optimist by nature, I thought
that maybe with God's help, I would make it.

By noon, a column of black uniformed SS from the Vlasov Russian army,
deserters who had switched over to the German side and were just as
cruel, and a few German SS arrived at the prison. They marched all of
us, men and women, 328 prisoners, into the camp in Plaszow. I even
tried to hide in jail, but it was no use. I was rounded up with the
others. The whole group was waiting beside a hill, resigned to our fate.

The SS were having a conference. Oscar Schindler, a German businessman
and Party member, came to the camp to negotiate with Goeth about the
release of his former workers who were in our group. He said that he
needed them at his enamel factory. Commandant Amon Goeth finally made
his decision. Oscar Schindler got his workers.
Then Goeth looked over at our group, at random, whoever caught his
fancy, and asked what trade they knew. He did not even look at some
people. As he approached me, I said a silent prayer (Shma Israel). He
called me out of line, asking what trade I knew. I said that I was a
saw-mill operator. I figured this might be needed, since they had a
carpentry shop in Plaszow. Also, my family had had a lumber business
before the war and I was familiar with a saw. He said, "Good." He
called the chief of the camp, Chilewicz, and told him to register me and
put me to work at the carpentry shop. Rottenberg was also asked, and he
said that he was a glass cutter. Wrong choice. They did not need him.
A total of 28 were taken out for work at the Plaszow camp. All the
rest, 300 prisoners, amount them Rottenberg, were taken up to the hill
(Chojowa Gora) and shot to death. We heard the shootings at the camp.

My camp life began again, this time with no chance of escape. I was
given a cot at the carpenters' barracks and told that work would start
at 6:00 A.M. the following morning. In the meantime, I took my clothes
off and lay down, as I was utterly exhausted. I fell asleep right
away. I was awakened by the noise of the returning workers. All of my
clothes, including my shoes, were gone, stolen. I was left in my
underwear. I told the Stuben Altester (Room Elder) what had happened.
He said, "Sorry, can't help you. Next time, you sleep in it." I went
to the chief of the camp, Chilewicz, in my underwear. He remembered
me. He went to the warehouse and I got another set of clothes and shoes
which no one dared swipe from me anymore. Chilewicz shouted,
threatening the Stuben Altester that he would be severely punished if
this ever happened again. At 5:00 A.M., we got up. At 6:00 A.M., we
started work. Every morning, we had a head count, to see that no one
was missing. Next, we received diluted coffee made from chicory root.
I drank water. Some had a piece of bread saved up, but most went
without eating.

We had to wait until noontime for some watery soup. The eating utensils
consisted of an enamel bowl with a hole on the side through which you
attached a string to your waist. If you had a spoon, you kept it in
your pocket. The soup bowl was with you at all times. Without it, you
were out of luck. We talked less about work. The most important thing
was who got one potato more. This was envied. So was how thick the
soup was. Work was nonstop, for a 12 hour shift. Capos (bosses) were
yelling to hurry up and work faster. SS officers stopped by to check if
we had worked well enough for the soup and a kilo of black bread, which
we received once a week. Sometimes, when the work was finished, we had
to work overtime for two or three hours, carrying parts of barracks to
different locations. We were beaten with leather whips by the Capos.
The shop in which I worked produced boxes, tables, chairs and wooden
handles, all for the military and the SS. It required extreme care not
to get cut, otherwise your life was in danger. Anyone who went to the
hospital for more than a few days was rounded up, taken out and shot.
Food was foremost on our minds. We were so very hungry.

On day, a Mr. Gross showed up in the barracks asking for me. He told me
that he knew my parents well. He used to do business with my father for
many years. I told him that no one had survived and that I was the only
one here. He said that he was in a group of 12, working the "egg
commando," that they were sorting and packing food for the military and
had enough to eat there, and that I could have some of their soup and
share it with my friends. This had to be kept quiet. The bread they
kept for themselves. The extra soup helped us a little bit. We were
still very hungry all the time. We worked long hours, with little
sleep, always afraid of what the day would bring. The days were getting
longer and warmer. Rumors were going around that Germany would lose the
war and we would soon be free again.

In June 1943, Plaszow was sealed, and no one went outside to work. Mr.
Gross took back his soup rations and his group did not go out anymore.
Liquidation was going on in Tarnow and vicinity. Some Jews were sent to
Auschwitz, some to Plaszow. The last 50 workers came from the Rabka
camp to Plaszow. Commandant Goeth made his selection: Most of the
people ended up on the hill (Chojowa Gora), shot to death. The hunger
and terror grew. I saw Goeth set his Dalmation dog on a Jewish
prisoner. The dog tore the victim apart; when he did not move anymore,
Goeth shot him. I was very hungry and the soup was impossible to eat.
They used some inedible ingredients. My Capo was Oleg Szpanlagel. He
was about 25, from Cracow. He had a very bad temper and was mean, too.
He got along with me, though, that is, until one time I heard him curse
out his father. I just told him nicely to be more respectful. That did
it! He became my enemy, looking for ways to get rid of me. He picked
me for the most dangerous jobs. Once I was ordered to put a pole up for
a radio antenna. SS Hujar, a ruthless individual, stood over me as I
struggled to dig a hole with a pick-ax in stony hard ground. It was
impossible to do. Hujar kicked me in the belly and told me to get
lost. It was a miracle that I did not get a bullet. I felt that sooner
or later, I would pay with my life for telling Szpanlagel to be nice to
his own father.

Plaszow had another carpentry shop. The best furniture masters of
Poland worked there. Mr. Segulem was a Capo there. He was a former
lumber dealer and had known my parents. I went to him, told him that my
life was in danger and to please take me in to work at his shop. This
shop was not raided by the SS. They wanted the furniture for themselves
to send home to Germany. Mr. Segulem told me to come to work for the
night shift. I went to work at the furniture shop, polishing, cutting
wood on the machine and doing whatever was demanded of me. Rations were
getting smaller, until one night I was so starved, I could not sleep.
That week, I worked day shift. I had heard that they unload bread for
the SS at night. Sometimes they needed workers because people were
afraid to get too close to them. I was so starved that I did not care
anymore. I went up to the guard and volunteered to help if I would get
bread. He said to go to work. After all was unloaded, I asked for and
received a whole loaf. I went into the barracks, bread hidden under my
jacket. On my cot, I covered my head, so that nobody could see, and
finished the whole loaf. Another night, risking my life, I took a
wheelbarrow, went to where the potatoes were kept, loaded up, and
instead of going to the kitchen, went to the shop instead. My friends
and I had ourselves a meal.

While I was working at this shop, my former Capo, Szpanlagel, did not
forget me. In late November 1943, Commandant Goeth was away. His place
was taken over by his assistant, Jon. One night, Jon went into the
shops for victims to be shot. He came with Szpanlagel to the carpentry
shop where I worked, demanding people. Capo Szpanlagel did not know
that I worked at the other shop. He called up a father and son by the
name of Rosenek, very good carpenters. He did not like them. He also
called my name. None of the workers told him where I was. All those
called up that night were taken up to the hill, forced to undress, then
shot. Over 100 people lost their lives that night. That was a close
call!

I avoided my former Capo as much as possible. In late December 1943,
Auschwitz demanded from Plaszow 250 workers with 24 special skills.
They needed mechanics, toolmakers, electricians, carpenters, etc.
Germany moved its war factories deeper inland. They selected the best,
except from the furniture shop. My luck had it that Oleg Szpanlagel
caught me walking in camp. I told him that I was needed in the
furniture shop. He said, "We'll see." He put me in the barracks
together with the workers going to Auschwitz. We were well guarded. I
was resigned, thinking that since he already knew where I worked, I was
a marked man.

Auschwitz-Birkenau was the largest of the Nazi concentration and death
camps. This camp was first built in the beginning of 1940 in Zasole, on
the outskirts of Oswiecim-Auschwitz. The headquarters were in former
military barracks. The first transports arrived in June 1940, mostly
political prisoners, the majority Poles. After the attack on the Soviet
Union in June 1941, Hitler made the decision of the "Final Solution."
The "Solution" meant the extermination of all Jews under Nazi
occupation. Himmler issued orders to Hoess, Commandant of Auschwitz, to
prepare the necessary installations in the camp. In January 1942, the
first transports of Polish Jews arrived. They were condemned to instant
liquidation. That was the transport which included the twenty Jews from
Makow, a list on which my name had appeared and as a result of which I
had gone into hiding. Here I was, on the way to the place I had tried
so hard to avoid!

The purpose of this camp was to exploit the labor of the prisoners to
the maximum, to work them to death. In the beginning of January 1944,
we were loaded on freight cars, heavily guarded by the SS. The trip
took about three hours. As we came nearer, we could see lots of smoke,
as if the place was on fire. The air was nauseating, smelling of burnt
flesh. We saw prisoners in striped clothing pushing carts on narrow
tracks, loaded with stones heaped high to the top. It looked scary.
The train stopped a few feet from the main station and we were ordered
off. A sinister looking group of SS with German shepherd dogs
surrounded us and took a head count to see that none had escaped. A
high ranking SS man told us that we were going to Main Auschwitz for
work in the Deutsche Ausrustung Werk. As we were marched to the central
camp, we saw factories and prisoners in stripes, working. A big sign
over the main entrance said, "Arbeit Macht Frei." ("Work Makes You
Free.") An orchestra was playing as workers were returning from work.
The music was very good since the best musicians of Europe were
prisoners there. We were confused, not knowing what to make of it. We
were assigned to Block 18 and 18A. Before going inside, we were to take
a shower and put on the striped prisoner garb. We had worn our civilian
clothes in Plaszow, which were later splashed with paint stripes to
prevent escape. We had heard about showers, but the other prisoners
reassured us that these really had water. The Block Elder was a German
prisoner with a green sign on his jacket, which meant that he was in
prison for life, for murder. A red sign meant a political prisoner. He
told us to go to the basement where the doctor would check us to see if
we were healthy. That surely scared us! We were to undress and the
infamous Dr. Mengele looked each of us over. He noticed the scars on
the left side of my back. They were welt marks from leather whips with
which guards used to beat us at the Rabka camp. I could not say that,
of course! He asked if I always had them. "Yes, from birth," I said.
I passed. We were told that the next day, we would get numbers.
Indeed, we were all tattooed on the left forearm. Hereafter, we were
known by number only. I got number 1 7 4 0 6 3. We were sent to work
in factories. I was assigned to a timber company operated by I. G.
Farben. Others were sent to Krupp Detonator Works, and some to Deutsche
Erd and Steinwerk-Cement works.

The SS administration received six Marks for a skilled worker's labor,
four Marks for unskilled. The upkeep of each worker was estimated at 30
Pfennigs a day. The prisoners received nothing. During the existence
of the camp, about 400,000 prisoners were given registration numbers for
work, the majority of them Jews. There were also Poles, Russians,
Czechs, Frenchmen, Germans and Gypsies. The Gypsies were exterminated
in 1944. Those not registered for work went directly to the gas
chambers, mostly Jews, over one million people.

I was assigned, along with three other prisoners, to boring holes for
legs on wooden tables and chairs. This was for the German Army. We
worked from 6:00 A.M. to 6:00 P.M. There was a half hour for lunch.
Breakfast consisted of dark water, lunch was hot soup and in the evening
there was dinner of about four ounces of dark bread and dark hot water.

At Birkenau-Auschwitz, it was much worse. No meaningful work was done
there. Only transports for the gas chambers were coming. The firm of
Topf from Erfurt, Germany, built huge modern crematories connected to
the gas chambers. Ten thousand people were gassed and burned in 24
hours. In early Spring of 1944, Birkenau was having trouble; they were
running short of victims and could not fill the gas chambers to full
capacity. Then, in June 1944, large transports of Hungarian Jews began
arriving. Some were warned, but they could not believe it. Italian
Jews arrived, completely ignorant about this place. They had never
heard of it! Even those selected for work could not adjust. They could
not sleep or eat, and simply died from the enormity of the tragedy that
befell them. Most lost their lives in the gas chambers. Every day,
freight cars packed with Hungarian Jews went straight to the gas
chambers. The SS guards were laughing and saying, "There goes another
Himmel Kommando (Heaven Commando)." During the day, we saw smoke, at
night we saw the fires from the crematories. Few Hungarian Jews were
saved, for skilled workers had to be young and. Some told us that they
had come with large families. They were told that because of the war,
they had to be moved. They believed it. They cried and begged, they
were chased and beaten, hurried to get in fast, more transports were
waiting. Some broke down and hurled themselves on the electrified
fence, thereby ending their lives.

We received transports of Jews from the Lodz ghetto, the last Jews left
alive, except those on Aryan papers, with the partisans or hidden in
bunkers. The Lodz Jews told us about the uprisings in Bialystok and
Warsaw, and in camps like Treblinka and Sobibor. We were proud of them,
they were like heroes to us. When our group of 250 skilled workers left
Plaszow for Auschwitz, we promised our friends to let them know of our
fate, if possible. One day, we got the chance. We noticed a shipment
of wood going to Plaszow. We printed all our names on the wood to let
them know that we were alive. After the war, we met some of them and
they told us how happy they were to hear from us.

The front was getting closer and we could hear bombings, day and night.
Some ammunition factories were also bombed, as was the main railroad
station in Auschwitz. Not one gas chamber was touched! From time to
time, the SS doctors ordered some blocks to send their prisoners to
where the showers were, to have a health check. We had to undress and
pass their inspection. These inspections were done at night, after
work. Every one of us was frightened. If you were too skinny, they
wrote down your number and you were taken to another block until they
had collected another transport for the gas chamber.

As the front was getting closer, we had transports of political
prisoners. Polish prisoners arrived after the Warsaw uprising in August
1944, which the Nazis suppressed at the cost of 250,000 lives. Fewer
orders were being filled at the shop. I was sent to clean freight cars
and the yard. This was dangerous work. As a non-essential worker, you
were liquidated after a very short time. Once, as I was taken to the
freight car, my Austrian Capo, Hans, noticed that I was missing. He
came looking for me, yelling at me to get back inside where I was
needed. He saved my life. All the others were liquidated. At lunch,
he gave me a double portion of soup; he felt sorry for me. On Sundays,
after work, I used to clip hair for which I got an extra ration of
bread. Hans was my best customer. He survived the war and became
superintendent of prisons in Linz, Austria.

In October 1944, a group of Jewish prisoners who worked at the
crematories in Birkenau rebelled. Usually, after a short time, several
weeks or so, Jewish workers there would be liquidated and replaced by
new prisoners. The rebels had collected explosives, somehow smuggled
into the camp, in tiny amounts, inside the clothes of two Jewish girls
who worked in an ammunition factory. When a sufficient amount had been
accumulated, the workers blew up the crematory, together with the SS and
themselves. The gas chambers ceased to operate. All the inmates of our
camp in Auschwitz were ordered outside. The two girls were brought in
together with a group of Nazi opponents. We had to watch as they were
sentenced and hanged. The girls shouted at the last moment, "Am Israel
Chai!" ("May the Jewish People Live!") The others shouted, "Death to
Hitler!"

In November 1944, the Russian Army was getting closer to Cracow. The SS
administration of Auschwitz was getting nervous. They began to evacuate
prisoners deeper into Germany. The Plaszow camp was liquidated and
some prisoners were sent to other camps. Our shop was busy again. In
December, the SS became nervous, they were as brutal as ever, they
knowing that their end was near. On January 17, 1945, an order was
issued that Auschwitz must be evacuated right away. The Russian Army
had taken Cracow already. The SS were running away like rats on a
sinking boat. A few inmates hid inside and did not follow the order.
We thought that the SS would surely blow up the entire camp. We left the
camp in the evening. They chased us to go faster so that the Russians
would not catch us. We heard shooting all around and we saw tracer
bullets in the dark. We had to march all night and the next day too.
We were exhausted, hungry and very cold. Many prisoners could not keep
up this death march and were shot if they lagged behind. They were left
where they fell on the road. The next night, we rested in a big
warehouse. In the morning, we were packed into open cattle cars, in
below zero weather. We were on our way to Mauthausen concentration camp
in Austria. The trip was slow, and in the bitter cold, some of the
prisoners froze to death. When we reached Morawska Ostrawa in
Czechoslovakia, we were given some hot soup and bread by the Czech Red
Cross. They even managed to put some coal stoves in the open cars so
that we would not freeze to death. We waited at the station all night.
The next morning, children on their way to school, seeing our condition,
threw their sandwiches to us. Even the SS guards did not interfere.
They were probably surprised to see such a humane gesture. We were on
our way again to the camp in Mauthausen.

I tried to keep together with my group of friends from Plaszow and
Auschwitz, Jozek Feigenblatt, Karol Kapner, Sam Goldwasser, Henry
Kozlubski and Henry Skrzypek. After several days, we arrived at
Mauthausen. It was the beginning of February. There was plenty of snow
and it was bitter cold. We got off the cattle cars, but some did not
make it; they were frozen stiff.

Mauthausen was well known in Germany even before the war. It was in the
mountains and hard to reach. Some places had over 160 steps. For
punishment, prisoners had to carry heavy stones on their shoulders. We
did not have to do that. We marched up hungry and very thirsty. Some
licked the snow. An Austrian woman felt sorry for us and brought a
bucket of water for us to drink. The SS guard saw this and kicked over
the whole bucket. Upon reaching the camp, we were counted again. More
than half of the prisoners did not make it. The place was crowded with
prisoners of all nationalities. We stayed in the same place in which we
had been brought. There was no room in which to move. We were without
food, water or bathrooms. After a couple of days, we were put on cattle
cars again, and taken to Melk, a subcamp of Mauthausen. We arrived the
same day and marched one mile for about two hours. Melk had no gas
chambers, but there was a crematory, which was standard practice in all
camps. It was already evening. Suddenly my legs buckled under me and I
could not walk anymore. Seeing my predicament, my friends, Feigenblatt
and Kapner, held me up between them and got me through, inside the
building. I could not have made it on my own!

We were assigned two to a bunk and given a little soup and a slice of
bread, this after three days without food or drink. Next day, we were
registered with new numbers. We were told that we would be working in
the mountains, drilling underground warehouses for the German Army. We
received wooden shoes, ours' having been ruined from the long march;
some had none at all. The snow and mud stuck to the bottoms and it was
very difficult to walk in those wooden clogs. One more thing to endure.

We knew that the war would not last very much longer, the question was,
how much longer could we survive? The work in the mountains was very
dangerous, and we had to be careful with the drills. Having no mining
experience, we did now know when the earth could shift and cave in on
top of us. Many prisoners lost their lives that way. Out rations were
the same as in the other camps: soup and a small slice of bread. From
time to time, we were assigned to work cleaning up bombed freight cars.
We found some rice, macaroni and sugar. My friends and I put whatever
we could into our pants. We tied the bottom of the legs with some
string. We cooked in soup bowls on an open fire. This helped us to
survive for a while longer. In April, we had to move again. This time,
we traveled on foot, for bombings had destroyed the transportation.
Over 2,000 prisoners had to march about 100 kilometers from Melk to
Benzene. The days were milder, as it was the beginning of April 1945.
There was still snow on the ground in these mountains. We saw German
refugees running away from the front, the same as we did in 1939. Was
all this suffering worth it? We marched by day and rested in the open
fields at night. Some lay down on the ground, never to get up again.
My friends and I tried to just sit and take a short nap, not to sleep,
but to just keep moving. Some prisoners dug up potatoes and turnips in
the field and ate them raw. My friend, Henry Skrzypek, offered to share
some raw potato with me. I could not eat it.

The city of Ebenzee, Austria looked so serene, so peaceful. One could
not imagine that such a horrible concentration camp existed in these
mountains. For me, this place was the worst of them all. As we walked
up the hill to the camp, we met a large group of prisoners working on
the road. They looked like skeletons. Here, I met my friend, Schiff,
from Plaszow. We had worked together as gardeners in Rabka. Schiff and
I recognized each other. I was happy to see him alive. I asked him how
it was here. He said, "Couldn't be worse, nobody survives in this
place." There was no food, no sanitation, nothing by which to be able
to survive. It was hell! That was the last time I saw my friend,
Schiff. He had come that far, and did not make it.

The camp had long wooden barracks like chicken coops. We were to sleep
four to a cot. The war was coming to an end but the Nazis would not
free us. For three more weeks, we were forced to stay in the Ebenzee
camp. Some prisoners still went to work, but they could hardly walk due
to lack of food and sleep.

For meals, we were given soup which was hot water with potato peels.
Even the peels were hard to find. Sometimes there was a thin slice of
bread. The Capos were the cruelest bunch of beasts and everybody hated
them. They stole everything for themselves. Upon arrival in the camp,
my friend, Feigenblatt, said to me, "Don't worry, let me look around and
see what's going on here." Always a good organizer, he would find
something when no one else could. After awhile, he came back and, "Look
what I got!" He had a large loaf of bread hidden under his jacket and
he said, "Let's go under the covers and eat." We ate up the bread,
joined in by Karol Kapner, who demanded a share, too. Later, in the
evening, one of the Capos returning to the barracks found that his bread
was missing. He was screaming and threatening, and would have murdered
anyone who had taken his bread. At night we got the soup with the few
potato peels. It took until midnight for us to settle into the bunks.
With four to a bunk, it was impossible to sleep, even though we were as
thin as skeletons. If one turned over, the others had to do likewise.
There were no latrines, and so we had to go outside. Only one modern
crematory was busy, constantly so. Prisoners were dying and were being
disposed of by cremation.

Every morning there was a head count inside the barracks. The prisoners
could hardly walk. One minute, you saw a man stand at attention, a
minute later he would collapse, dead from hunger. The SS still came
into the barracks. They threatened us that we should go to work. We
could not move anymore and did not. In the beginning of May 1945, we
could see Austrian civilians with red and white armbands patrolling our
camp. They told us that the war was almost over, the Americans were on
their way and that we would soon be liberated.

One day we were called outside to the Appell Platz (roll call place) and
we were told by the SS officer that since the front was getting closer,
we should all go into the mines in the mountains for our safety. The
Austrian guards had warned us not to go there. They said that the SS
had had them mined and we would all be blown up and buried there
forever. We said that we were staying where we were, we were not going
to move and that we were not afraid anymore. The SS did not have the
manpower to force us to do otherwise, some of them having run away,
afraid of being caught.

On May 6, 1945, the American Army entered our camp in Ebenzee with a
couple of tanks. We were liberated, free at last, after so many years
of prisons, camps and destruction. Some Russian prisoners who were
stronger than most of us took revenge. They caught the mean Capos and
SS officers, and hanged them in the camp.

We were happy to be free and alive. We got plenty of food to eat, but
could not. A lot of people got diarrhea and died after liberation. I
weighed 76 pounds and was hardly able to walk. I ate a little at a time
and slept a lot. It took me about a year to be able to walk up on
steps. The U.S. Army adopted us, fed us and helped us to gain our
strength back.

I was happy to have survived but forever saddened by what had happened
to my entire family and to my people I was left all alone in the
world, the sole survivor of my family.