January
28, 1944
In
a month Lijuchnia will be four years old. I am trying to fool myself that by
that time we are going to be free. The broadcasts don’t indicate that. The
newspapers bring news of big successes of the German armies on the southern
front. We were already so close to freedom and again they went back a few dozen
kilometers. Sometimes it seems to be a fata morgana (mirage) in the desert –
it’s close and then it disappears again.
To
make matters worse, the winter is the worst. Rain, mud, a winter like never
before, the atmosphere in the bunker is unbearable. Only couples talk among
themselves. Before we all talked together, we even had a laugh or two; now we
have nothing to say to each other. Even among couples there is tension. Lolo is
very nervous recently. He has a lot on his mind. Recently a lot has happened.
Just Monday Lolo went behind the little door and in a few minutes he came back
white as a ghost screaming, “We are lost, Help – fire!” We all thought that
somebody saw them and we had been discovered – found out – that means we are as
good as dead. Nobody thought of an actual fire. But we already smelled smoke
and we got ready to leave. Panic – indescribable. Lolo got the shakes. A few
minutes later the old man comes in, the fire is out, and we are saved, thank
God. It seems that our keeper kept some gasoline under the bed (in a bottle);
when she couldn’t see it she lit a match the better to see and so it caught
fire and the mattress being made of straw burned very easily. Naturally with
the visible flames people from the street came into the house. A miracle that
they didn’t see our men standing around there, God covered their eyes with his
hand. I can see it as an omen – we are going to live and be freed. It would be
beautiful to live for Lijuchnia the child and make it up to her for all the
miseries.
Every
day I reproach myself for burning the bridges behind me, for running away. I
acted like a child. I thought that Hudla is going to take care of everything.
Now I see how difficult it all must be. If she got in touch with Wisha and gave
the child to her and if God helps she is there. How the poor child must feel
alone among them, without shoes. I remember when the child was there for two
weeks how we brought her home with a dirty head, the voice frightened, and now
it’s already 7 months – 31 weeks – how does the child live through all that?
And still I pray the child should be there because that’s her greatest chance
to live through all this madness.
The
second possibility is that Mama and the child are in hiding someplace and this
frightens me for two reasons: security measures and financially. I know that
they don’t have much money. Even if Leon is with them they still wouldn’t have
enough. Chaskel and Pepka are someplace, so I heard, and this also worries me,
because they are without money. You can lose your mind thinking what could
happen. And the situation on the front is, “one step forward and two back.”
It’s hard to see an end to it and we want to live so badly.
Often,
when I am in better spirits I dream of the future, making plans with my family.
Seeing a beautiful life and my only pain is missing Zanka. Why did she have to
go and I remained? What an injustice. She a mother to a child and a much better
person than I. How often I see how mean I am. At home they talked me into
believing that I am smart – I can’t see it, just the opposite – I often act
very stupid. Lately there are little misunderstandings between Lolo and myself
about minor things. There is now less to eat. Just bread. Only the family has
more because of the visitor. Lolo thinks that I am jealous of their good
fortune. It isn’t that. It’s just that I can’t stand that “nothing” looking
down at me and considering herself something of a better person because she
eats better. It hurts for Lolo to think so or to feel that I blame him for
having less. If he would only understand. Hudel would understand me, she always
did. Lolo is much too touchy. I never pay attention to food, it doesn’t bother
me at all. I cried, feeling bad that we are treated so badly because of lack of
money. We just gave the ring so we have two weeks to go. The watch money is
gone. We just have to pray for it to end. The money and everything else is
coming to an end.
Monday,
January 31, 44
Today
we had a very unpleasant situation. The old man lost his watch and we can’t
find it. We looked everywhere and it is gone. The situation is doubly bad –
first of all the finger of suspicion points at any one of us, and secondly our hostess
threatened to throw us all out if the watch is not found. That is all we needed
to make our misery here worse. I now have such a deep feeling of despair that I
would like to break through the walls and run – where to? That is the question.
I think that jail is paradise in comparison; at least in jail every page torn
out from the calendar means one day closer to freedom. For us it doesn’t mean a
thing, it’s only a day that passed without any meaning or a future. I count
days, hours – yesterday was 5,280 hours – 318,800 minutes – this is what I do
when I am not asleep. And so, since we are here summer is gone, fall is gone
and half of the winter, and we hear the winter is an unusual one – rain and mud
and often winds which we hear howling upstairs in the empty rooms. Sometimes it
sounds like a faraway shot – the best sound one can hear. Wishful thinking – oh
how we would love to hear shooting sounds – cannons or artillery – it would
mean so much to us. But nothing; it’s much too quiet. The only sound is the
whispering of this idiotic couple and the sound of peeling potatoes until it
drives you out of your mind. Potatoes – that is our daily menu, but I am still
thinking of that watch and what is going to happen to all of us. Somehow, I can
see better today, maybe it is lighter. Usually it is much darker in the bunker,
because the only light comes from a part of a window – the whole window is
covered with board except for twenty cm. On top, the glass is covered with
paint so no one can look in from the outside. As bunkers go, ours has enough
light, like for pigs – enough for former human beings, which keep alive
memories of a better life – that is not enough. I said pigs because this place
reminds me of a sty, especially the exit – the trapdoor at the bottom of
shelves 40 cm high – that is our connection with the outside world. I am very
distracted today – I’ll write more tomorrow.
Tuesday,
February 1st, 1944
The
watch is gone. We didn’t find it. It caused a lot of fighting between all 10
people. He suspects everybody and he got our hostess on his side. The
atmosphere here is unbearable. I am glad I took hold of myself and I keep quiet
like a church mouse. Meanwhile, it is dark today and I can’t see. The evening
potatoes are ready.
Saturday,
February 5th, 1944
Two
days of duty kept me occupied and I didn’t get a chance to write. This is the
time that I can wash myself and my few things. Yesterday we had very bad news –
they caught four Jews in a village. It seems that they still hunt those running
in fear. I thought that they forgot us – that after seven months of “Judenfrei”
they let the case rest. We thought that with the front nearing – slowly maybe
but still advancing – those gentiles will have a heart and stop pointing out
the Jews to the murderers – but no, this matter never rests, it seems that the
Almighty doesn’t want us anymore. Just to think – people are suffering for such
a long time and when they think that salvation – freedom – is near, that
salvation is coming – that’s when the worst happens. How terrible it must be to
be discovered by the Nazis – what does one go through in those moments of
looking them in the face? I saw people going to their death. I saw Zanka, how
indifferent she was – almost calm. Most probably facing death one becomes
indifferent and loses the will to live. I remember lying on the ground
expecting to be shot soon, I saw Lolo fighting for my life – I was just very
calm. Now, sitting here, I think of it ever so often. Today I was thinking of
all of them and especially Lijuchnia.
God,
I’d rather be dead than be left alone. I dreamed of Lijuchnia last night – she
was in Zanka’s arms – smiling with rosy cheeks – in one moment she was trying
to get away from a German officer pleading “Ich will nicht” [“I don’t want”]–
and so Zanka and I got her out of his hands. Then I saw her among horses and I
interpreted it as a good sign – she is among friends. As far as Lijuchnia is
concerned I became a great believer. Since I’ve been here I believe in God more
than ever – every night I say a pray for Lijuchnia, God should watch over her.
I think it’s very natural for people with little hope to turn to religion for
support. I always believed – my religion was implanted in me from childhood on,
so now after all these experiences it became stronger. Though looking around me
I often want to cry out in blasphemy and ask: if God exists how could He look
on – see all these horrors, let these murderers do their killing? How could He
be so indifferent to all that? But then I pray and ask Him for forgiveness and
pray for the safety of my dearest ones.
Except
for bad news about the four Jews, we still have the case of the missing watch.
The situation is unpleasant but at least our hostess got over it and she is
okay. Good, we must be grateful for that. Today she brought her nephew into the
bunker to show him how these creatures who were once people live. Crawling in
she said, “I could never live like this, I would choke to death.” She looks at
this from the heights of freedom. She is a human being, we are nothing – less.
Sure she wouldn’t sleep in a hole where each one of us has 80 square cm to live
and the air is coming through a chimney in which the basin [toilet] is for us
to use. This thing is very shaky – and quite often overturns. And then I am
ready to die because the smell is unbearable and everybody is putting the
still-sensitive nose under the cover – and only the poor doer has to clean up
the mess. Every time I walk out of the chimney (“the toilet room”) I think of
what could take place and I shiver at the possibility. That stench is just
awful. But that isn’t the only one – there is another one just as bad. Right in
the middle of the “room” there is a pail for slops (dishwater) everything goes
into this pail – it sometimes even serves as a substitute for the chimney if
the other one gets too full and can’t be taken out. In seven months those pails
weren’t dry for one second. Nobody washed it because who would put a hand into
it, but if a spoon or fork falls into it – it’s taken out – just slightly
rinsed – and used again. Slightly rinsed because water is scarce. There is one
little pail to wash the floor 2 square m. of it – this we do with water from
washing ourselves. The pail in the chimney is covered with a rag to diminish
the stench. Ha ha – this rag is always wet and smells worse. To make the air
heavier, somebody relieves himself from time to time from wind produced by
eating those dry potatoes. That’s enough about those sensitive noses. The other
plague is the tremendous amount of bed bugs which are everywhere and also lice.
These bother me most because a bite from a louse leaves me with a rash for
quite a while.
Sunday,
February 6th, 1944
The
days are getting longer – 6 am in the morning is bright and 4 pm it gets dark.
I can’t sleep and wait for the morning light to start the day. Actually what
for – the days are like ages, and to live through one is very hard. So many
thoughts run through my head in these 18 hours a day, because again and again I
live through the macabre scenes. Today we discussed the final liquidation of
the camp with its death. And naturally I thought of Zanka and I saw a grave
full of other bodies and again the reproaches came back to me, why did I let
her go by herself, why didn’t I stay with her. Maybe it’s easier to go to death
with someone dear beside you. She went to the truck holding Libcha’s arm (our
cousin). I can still see the open truck with a chair in front of it for
everyone to step on it in order to get into the truck. What perfidy! They take
people to slaughter but they give them a chair to make it easier to step into
the truck – that’s “western culture” humanity. I could scream – howl from pain
– call to heaven for revenge. Until the liquidation I didn’t know so much hatred
– such strong desire for revenge. I swear I am going to instill upon Lijuchnia
hate for all that’s German. Maybe Mel is going to come home, please God, and
he’ll avenge Zanka’s death. But with all that, we’ll never get Zanka back, and
the wound is never going to heal. I remember the little girl who jumped on the
truck. She lost her mother before (they shot her before the liquidation) and
the Aryan who kept her didn’t want her anymore and brought her back to the
labor camp from which they were now taking her to be shot. I keep on thinking
how this little girl was going to meet death completely unaware of what’s going
on. I connect her with the phrase which was said to us by our hostess, “do I
have to take off my little chemise too?” The Aryans are repeating this question
among themselves with sorrow, now how can we take it! I can’t stop thinking
about it. I must admit that no death is more painful than a child’s. It’s such
an innocent being – so little, it didn’t have a chance to live – it didn’t harm
anybody – so why does it have to die? You just can’t think about it. It’s a
typical slaughter of the innocent. I hope that the blood of these innocent ones
shall fall on their and their children’s heads – amen. This doesn’t ease the
pain at all. God, please spare Lijuchnia! Let me be able to be with her. I
think I sinned, so please God forgive me and let me sacrifice [myself] for her.
The days go by so slowly. Yesterday we had a good news broadcast.