The head of the Stutthof camp looked us over carefully as we were being prepared for the transport. Since he was accepting only Jews it was clear that the trip was bad news. Rumors were flying everywhere that we were being sent to Treblinka to be gassed. Others whispered that they would not take us very far. They would just take us into the forest and shoot us.
“Why are we being inspected like cattle?” we kept reflecting when they ordered us to march in pairs in front of the commandant’s fat face. While we were in Stutthof we wore the uniforms of Russian prisoners of war, often dirty and full of holes. For the trip we were given winter uniforms, and the commandant was inspecting them to make sure that there were no holes and that all the buttons were sewed on.
“Where are we going? Why are they so concerned with our appearance?” How the rumor got started I do not know, but the story that was making the rounds was that we were going to be traded to the Russians in return for German prisoners. We all said, “Nonsense!” But deep down in our hearts we believed the rumor because we wanted to believe it.
Those who were remaining behind took their leave of us in different ways. Since we had spent barely two months here, we had not quite managed to grow into the life of the camp. Because we had lived in isolation in a separate block, we had not had an opportunity to make close contacts with the other prisoners. Isolation breeds alienation and even enmity, so when, one frosty January morning, we marched along the tracks, guarded by SS men, nobody gave us as much as a friendly smile.
We waited dejectedly for the train that would be taking us into the unknown. It was a long time before the train arrived. We made small talk about anything in order to keep our minds from the vexing thoughts of “Where are we going, to another camp or to the gas?”
Suddenly a train arrived on the tracks. It was empty. We did not move, thinking that surely this train could not be the one we were waiting for. We already knew what kind of trains they used to transport prisoners. We were greatly surprised when the SS man turned to us and politely told us to board the train. “They are mocking us,” Liza whispered to me. “Soon they will chase us out of the train to the tune of shouts and blows.”
We walked into the compartments. There was enough room so that everyone had a place to sit. “Maybe you want to sit near the window,” Liza joked. In each compartment there was an SS man to guard us. The train started. We looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. Unbelievable! We were traveling like normal people. We could take advantage of a wash basin, water, and a toilet. What’s going on here? This is probably a new trick. “Maybe this road leads to Paradise,” I thought. Everything was so unusual that we sat perfectly still, afraid that if we moved we might somehow burst the bubble. If none of this is true, if the terrible truth is going to break in on us at any moment, at least for this moment let us live in our dream. The words of a Yiddish song ran through my mind. “Suppose,” the words go, “I build castles in the air. Suppose my dream will never come true. Still, dreaming is better, dreams are brighter.” So we dreamed.
The silence in our compartment amazed even our guard. “Why are you sitting so quietly? You can talk. Sing,” he told us magnanimously.
My first impulse was to question him. Maybe I could find out where we were going. But on second thought I just shrugged my shoulders. “Why throw dreams out the window?” Suddenly the door of our compartment opened and a second guard came in with food. Everybody was given a slice of bread, a piece of margarine, and a piece of cheese. “Eat this for supper. You will get more food tomorrow,” he said and went on to the next compartment.
In Stutthof we had never received such food. If we were allowed some margarine with our bread that was the height of luxury. Now here we were getting cheese in addition to margarine. When I was being transported from Bialystok to the camp in Stutthof we did not even get a crumb of bread and not even a drop of water. Now we had just boarded the train and they were not only bringing us food but politely telling us about tomorrow’s breakfast. What was going on? Perhaps in my dreams I had changed devils into angels. Our compartment continued in silence. We enjoyed the bread and the hope that timidly crept into our hearts.
I asked our escort if he would allow me to go into the next compartment. I wanted to talk and to hear what the others were saying about the situation. He gave me permission and I found that the next compartment was just as silent as ours. I sat down next to Genia, a pleasant, black-haired girl from Lodz. I knew that Genia was getting ready to run away. She told me in Stutthof that, as soon as an opportunity presented itself, she was going to take a chance. “After all, some people do succeed, so I am going to try,” she had said the day before the transport. What had she decided now? Was she planning to run away? Clearly it would be easier from this kind of train than from a freight train with barred tiny windows. So here I was, sitting next to Genia, wondering what she was going to do.
“What do you say?” she asked right off the bat. “Do you know where they are taking us? Shall we run or not? Maybe it’s true that we’re going to be exchanged. If that’s the case, why should I jump to my death? What do you think? What shall I do? Say something,” she begged.
An exchange! What nonsense. How easily she had fallen into the dream.
“I will wait,” she went on. “Maybe tomorrow the matter will clear up.”
By this time darkness had fallen. We passed darkened train stations without stopping. On several occasions the train stopped and stood in the middle of a field for a long while. I could not figure out where we were going. We dozed. Someone talked in her sleep. Somebody sighed. Our escort slept with outstretched legs, his rifle between his knees.
I woke up in the middle of the night with a feeling of joy. I imagined that I heard a choir singing. At first I did not believe my own ears, but later I could even catch the words of the song. The women in the next compartment were singing. Maybe we should sing something, too. Let the worst happen tomorrow. Today we are going to the unknown, so let us sing. Timidly I started a Russian song about Katiusha. Everybody joined in, quietly at first, and then more loudly. The escort did not say a word.
At dawn we fell asleep, our faces still distorted with anxiety. When it was completely light again, more food was brought in, accompanied by a large thermos of hot coffee and a few cups, much to our surprise. Hot coffee during a trip from a camp! The head of our transport brought it in. I remember how he unbuttoned his military coat, sat down on the bench, and spread his legs wide as he took delight in our amazement.
“The coffee tastes good, doesn’t it? Straight from the buffet.”
He bowed his head and smiled with pleasure. We received a full day’s ration of food: bread, margarine, cheese, and red sausage. The curtains were drawn across the window, and the SS man did not allow them to be opened.
“Why should the outside world know what kind of train it is?” he explained.
We continued to travel into the unknown. The length of the trip and the unusual treatment we were getting started to make our anxiety acute. Was there anything in our situation that could portend some good? During the day we stopped, often in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes the train stood motionless for a few hours, as though waiting for something. Was the track occupied? Clearly the SS men did not want us to know where we were going.
“We are probably close to the border,” whispered an old hunchbacked lady who was traveling in the same compartment.
“To which border?” I asked. At first I did not realize what she was driving at.
“What do you think?” she answered. “We must be close to the spot where they are going to make the exchange.”
I do not know why, but at that moment all my illusions left me. How could I have believed such nonsense even for a moment? Why had I not told Genia not to hesitate and to jump if she felt strong enough?
Meanwhile darkness fell again, and again we were given hot coffee. Now the train sped on quickly to our rendezvous with the worst. Now I could think about only one thing. How could I get to Genia and tell her what I thought about the exchange? There was silence in the compartment. We said nothing to each other. What was there to say? Now that I had rid myself of my illusions, I saw the satanical smiles in the eyes of our escorts. When the commander of the transport asked if we wanted anything, I saw that our tormentors were toying with us.
Suddenly the silence of the night was shattered by German shouts and shooting. Only the SS men could bellow like that. Our commandant jumped out of his seat and pointed the barrel of his rifle in our direction. I needed no explanation to know what the shooting and the shouting meant. Genia had decided not to wait for the exchange. She jumped while the train was going at full speed. The Germans had not expected this. When they realized what had happened and started to shoot, the train was already far from the spot where she had jumped. I thought that after the escape the escorts would stop smiling at us. Nothing of the kind. Early the next morning we again received the food and hot coffee. But nothing could squelch our feeling of dread. It was starting to get dark when the train stopped. At that moment the devil in our escorts showed himself. “Raus, raus, schneller” (“Out, out, faster”), they shouted, smashing us across our heads with their rifles. The train had stopped next to a hill of gravel, down which we had to slide, injuring our arms, legs, and faces. Finally, we found ourselves at the bottom of the hill, facing a large building on which we saw a huge sign: “Auschwitz—Oswiecim.” We had reached the border, all right, the border of Hell.