Eva's Story (20 page)

The train was already waiting, full of peasant men and women holding large baskets of food, some with live chickens, on their way to market. He spoke to them about me and I hoped he'd said I should get out at Czernowitz. He stood smiling and waving goodbye to me as the train pulled out of the station. It ran on till daybreak when it came at last to a station signposted Czernowitz, which thankfully I could read as it wasn't written in Russian letters. I had arrived.

The booking office clerk understood German and said there were people from a concentration camp housed in a school nearby.

I walked along the main street as dawn lightened the sky. A group of people were making their way to the station and I asked them, in German, where the schools were. One woman accompanied me along the road and pointed to a large building. I almost ran towards it, I was so full of joy.

However I wasn't prepared for the reception I received from Eva. She was asleep on a mattress and when I woke her up she was very angry with me.

‘Where have you been?' she shouted. ‘I shall never let you get out of the train any more!'

I was utterly shocked, and I felt tears rolling down my face. When Eva had finally finished yelling at me and I slipped under the quilt beside her I promised, ‘We won't ever be separated again.' We had been apart for a whole week.

13 April 1945 Vienna liberated by the Russians
.

The snow had disappeared, the sun shone more warmly and trees were beginning to bud. We went every day to the open-air food market where farmers brought in their produce. Most townspeople traded goods with them instead of paying – china or textiles, even small pieces of furniture changed hands for food. Many times the country folk offered me a chicken for my fine leather riding boots, but I refused to give them up just yet. Mutti had been given some money and we could now buy food if we needed to. We saw and tried something we hadn't had before. It tasted like sour cream, smooth as velvet and was called
smetena
. It was delicious.

We were having a good time in Czernowitz but all of us were worried about our relatives. We hoped the Red Cross would contact us as soon as possible with information about them. I had seen Anne's father, Otto Frank, again during the journey from Katowice to Czernowitz standing alone at one of the stops. He looked worn out and sad. Mutti was with me then and asked to be introduced to him. She knew he'd just heard from Rootje that his wife had died and she felt great pity for him. I took her over and they exchanged polite words, but there was little to console him and he had no interest in anything. He seemed to want to keep himself apart and remain alone with his grief.

Mutti was feeling weak – she was still running a temperature – so in Czernowitz we went to the local hospital. The doctors and nurses were helpful and kind, taking X-rays and examining her thoroughly. We were relieved to learn there was nothing wrong with her lungs but she was suffering from camp-fever which would disappear in time under normal conditions.

16 April 1945 US troops reach Nuremburg

News came that we were moving further south. This time after four days' travelling by rail in the usual way we arrived at Odessa, an important port and resort town on the Black Sea. For us it was another world. As the train entered the town we could see elegant mansions and villas in lush countryside. The climate was much milder and the foliage was in full leaf.

Only one lorry was available to carry the weakest so we had to walk to our new home. Soldiers organized the hundred or so of us into groups and said it was about two kilometres away. After an hour, when we began to feel weary, we were coaxed on.

‘Just half an hour more.'

And after that effort they said, ‘Come along, just another fifteen minutes.'

We were allowed a little rest by the wayside. Then they jollied us up again with ‘Just another kilometre and we'll be there!'

How long was a Russian kilometre? We tramped on until we had covered at least ten kilometres and it had taken us four hours!

We were worn out. Every part of us ached as we entered an estate which had once been the summer residence of a Russian prince. To me it was like paradise on earth. The grounds contained several charming, smaller houses which had been used by relatives of the Tsar. Now they were filled to capacity with released prisoners of war, each villa sheltering a different contingent – Australians, Italians, French. But our Jewish group had the privilege of being housed in the palatial main villa. Even so there was no furniture and we were back to mattresses on the floor, but such an elegant parquet floor! The ceilings were painted with glorious scenes and the whole decor was ornate and opulent. I had never stayed in such grandeur before and I was very impressed!

We were warned not to leave the estate or go to town but we were allowed to wander around and explore the grounds. For the first few days we were so completely exhausted from our journeying that we were happy to comply.

As we relaxed daily in the sun and gazed at the deep blue Black Sea we began to recover and throw off the yoke of prison mentality. My figure was filling out and my energy came surging back. At one time Mutti had barely been alive. Now she, too, was becoming stronger and looking more attractive.

Our curiosity eventually started to get the better of us. One morning Mutti said, ‘You know, we'll never have another chance to visit Odessa.'

‘Are we going to explore it then?' I asked. It seemed a grand idea at the time.

‘I don't care too much for regulations any more,' said Mutti smiling. ‘So let's go!'

We sauntered off casually through the grounds until we found a suitably secluded spot near to an outside road. Making sure no one was around, we crept through the bushes and started to walk towards the town.

Our breakfast of sweet black tea, maize bread and plum jam was still warm inside us as we walked side by side along country lanes, making for the main road. We could soon hear sounds of traffic and the clanking of an electrified tram travelling towards the city. At the tram stop we waited nervously with the locals. We tried to identify where we were but all the street signs were in strange Russian writing that we found impossible to read let alone understand! However, we noted that the villa opposite had an ornate iron gate and several distinct flowering trees and we told ourselves to count the stops each way.

The tram arrived and we climbed into the crowded carriage, standing room only, swaying into Odessa. It was such a strange odour-filled journey. Every local seemed to have eaten either onions or strange herbs for breakfast!

‘What do we do if we're asked for the fare?' I said anxiously.

Mutti was prepared for anything. ‘We'll just have to speak in Dutch and say we have no money,' she said curtly. ‘What can they do to us?' she shrugged. ‘They certainly won't shoot us!'

As we drew into the town the tram became even more crowded so no ticket collector could get near us and our journey was uneventful. We carefully counted each stop. We agreed to travel for no more than ten stops and then get out.

We alighted in an elegant tree-lined square that had once been the centre of the affluent bourgeoisie. Many villas were now uninhabited and neglected, mainly because of the war and also because the communists did not care to maintain residences of the old regime. Some houses were being used as hospitals with ambulances bringing in wounded soldiers. But the old gardens still sheltered sweet-smelling blossoms and lush semi-tropical plants. Trees bloomed – in glorious contrast to the stark barren landscape of Auschwitz. The atmosphere of luxury and glory remained and we were immensely excited. We looked around us, deciding which way to explore.

‘We mustn't lose each other ever again,' I said, reminding Mutti to stay with me. ‘And we mustn't lose our way either. Perhaps we should drop little pebbles as markers like Hansel and Gretel.'

But Mutti had great confidence that she would know which turning to take on the way back.

We enjoyed our sightseeing for several hours, wandering around Odessa and admiring the beautiful churches with golden-domed cupolas. We appreciated everything we saw. Just to stand and gaze at shop windows, even though practically nothing was available, filled us with pleasure.

Our stomachs told us when it was time to retrace our steps to the square.

‘I told you I could find my way back easily,' said Mutti.

‘But which tram do we catch?' I asked.

The problem was we didn't know! We thought we'd know which it was but when we were faced with the strange Russian figures we became very confused.

This tram is ours,' I said pointing to the first yellow one that pulled up.

‘No, it's not,' insisted Mutti. So we let it go without us.

‘The next one will be ours,' she said.

But when it arrived neither of us was sure. We had lost our confidence completely and were getting very edgy with each other. We couldn't agree which rumbling yellow tram was ours.

I was becoming nervous. If we caught the wrong tram by accident we would never find our way back to base and we had no idea what it was called or which side of town it was. How stupid not to know the directions!

As each tram came and went we stood at the side arguing heatedly.

‘We are going to have to trust to chance!' Mutti eventually said in exasperation.

We boarded the very next tram; some letters seemed the same as the original sign. We sank down on a wooden seat as the female conductor approached. Mutti held out her empty palms and drew imaginary bars in the air for prisoners. Then we both pulled up our sleeves and showed her the tattoo marks on our arms. She reacted by talking excitedly and smiling at us but we had no idea what she was saying so we replied with the only Russian expression we'd picked up ‘
Ne panya maya
' (I don't understand) and she nodded and left us to continue our journey.

We sat glued to the window in case we missed our stop. When we'd counted to nine we were surprised when the conductress returned and indicated that the next stop was ours. We found out afterwards that dozens of Australians had used this route for several weeks and everyone knew about us!

The Russians had forbidden us to leave the estate, probably for our own good, but we felt sure they wouldn't deny us entrance. With great nonchalance we walked confidently towards the sentry at the gate and pretended not to notice him as we tried to walk past. He wasn't going to have that! He strode into our path and started shouting incoherent Russian, vehemently shaking his head and pointing to the town. We became scared because he was obviously very cross with us.

He took us both firmly by the arms and walked us over to a large dog kennel beside his gatehouse. Then he knelt us both down, pushed us inside and padlocked the open-barred door. Our two shocked faces stared back at him through the bars.

He bent down to peer at us and then marched off to his gatehouse. Seconds later he returned laughing loudly with two large meatless shinbones and handed them to us through the bars. We were extremely indignant but there was nothing we could do about it. We were locked in again.

‘We only have ourselves to blame,' I said. I supposed it was a deserved punishment for breaking the rules. ‘But I'm tired and hungry,' I added miserably.

‘Well, I certainly don't relish the thought of having to spend a night in the doghouse!' said Mutti.

We squatted next to each other trying to console ourselves.

‘At least our lives aren't in danger,' I said.

‘If this is the worst punishment we get then our little excursion was worth while, wasn't it?' Mutti said.

‘Well worth it!' I agreed.

Our absence from the villa was making Rootje and Kea and our other companions worried. When they found out we were in the doghouse they all trooped down to see us. They shrieked with laughter at our plight. We all saw the funny side of it so it became a fairly good-humoured punishment!

‘But we are
starving!'
I said.

Kea went back to fetch some of the food we stored in our rooms. We were worldly-wise about food, none of us ever let leftovers return to the kitchen; we were still obsessed by the need to hide food away like squirrels, for who knew what emergencies might arise in the future? We had to stay in the dog kennel for a couple of hours, but we were quite snug and we tucked into bread, cheese and hard-boiled eggs and thought how lucky we were.

21 April 1945 The Red Army reaches the outskirts of Berlin

From now on we decided to be good girls! That was just as well because the following morning we were gathered together to be given some decent clothing. Special tents had been erected on the lawn with field showers and we were all encouraged to have a good wash. Everyone was in such high spirits that we undressed without too much coaxing – to the men's amusement, including onlooking soldiers. One or two older women were embarrassed and thought it wasn't in good taste but I didn't mind at all.

After these showers we were handed clean knickers and directed to another tent where a long trestle table was heaped with bras. On a chair by the entrance sat a Russian soldier. It was his dream come true! As each of us passed he held up both his hands with cupped fingers and had a good squeeze of our bosoms to gauge the size. When he was quite sure of the measurement he called out to his colleague ‘small' or ‘middling'! This gentleman then rummaged round in the pile until he found a suitable cup size which he had great pleasure in fitting on to us, hooking it securely at the back and testing the front with groping palms.

Hilarious fits of laughter and giggling on all sides kept us in good spirits and I didn't feel at all ashamed or awkward. That was the essence of the character of these men. They were kind, decent people, unaffected and natural and they did not make us feel immodest. We were all strangely pleased to be wearing bras after such a long time. We felt civilized again.