During the summer of 1944 the transports used to arrive at Auschwitz at night as well as in the daytime. We I often woke up because of the shouting of the SS men, the barking of dogs, the whistling of trainmen, the stamping of hundreds of feet, and the cries of desperation in different languages. At night the atrocities combined with our sleeplessness to give us a very vivid sense of existing in a factory of death. And yet, it all appeared unreal.
This particular July night it was the shouting of the SS men and the barking of the dogs that awakened me. I was lying on my narrow mattress thinking of those unfamiliar people going on their last trip. Suddenly the air was shattered by a series of shots, and then you could hear the sound of someone running. Then more shots, more shouts, and lamentations. It lasted a long time, almost the whole of a short summer night. Something was going on at the train station. Someone had fouled up an order given by the Germans.
According to my usual custom, I went to the infirmary before roll call, not yet dressed. Since there was running water in the infirmary it was possible for me to wash up. At the gate of the infirmary I met Marusia.
“Come quickly to the infirmary,” she said. “We have to figure what we should do.”
Except for the two of us, everybody was already in the infirmary. There was a young girl wearing Mancy’s sweater. She sat there hunched over, so frightened that she did not know what she was saying. We knew we had to get all the information immediately in order to help her. She spoke French and a little German. Marusia ran to get Masha, who was French, in the hope that the girl would trust her more than she trusted us and would tell us how she managed to get here so early in the morning with practically no clothes on.
When Marusia had arrived that morning she found the girl, who had barely managed to cover herself with a rag that had been glued to the wall of the barrack. She took the shivering girl inside and gave her Mancy’s sweater but made no attempt to question her. In this condition the girl was unable to speak. When she saw Masha she softened up, and this is what we heard.
“We arrived at Auschwitz last night. We traveled in standard Pullman cars. The transport consisted of five hundred people: men, women, and children. We were told that we were being taken east to work. They treated us well and fed us. As we were on our way to Poland, strangers shouted to us that we were on our way to death and that we should run away. We didn’t believe such ‘nonsense.’ Why should we run away? We were going to work and we would all be in one place. As soon as we crossed the Polish border, the leaders of the convoy started treating us more brutally.
“When we reached Auschwitz there was nobody at the station. It seems that nobody expected us at that hour. It was dark and quiet. In my compartment there were women with children and a young dancer from Paris. She was an unusually beautiful woman, very pleasant and courteous. She helped the mothers keep the children amused. Since it was very hot, we all wore bathing suits. The dancer was wearing a two-piece suit. We were all very tired from the long trip, so we dozed as we waited to leave the cars.
“We were awakened by boots with spurs and the barking of dogs. We started to get dressed and to get our luggage together, as is usually done when a train pulls into a station. All of a sudden the door of our compartment opened with a loud noise, and a sleepy SS man told us to strip naked and to come out to the station, leaving all our clothes and baggage behind in the cars.
“‘What do you mean? You want us to go out to the station naked?’ we asked, not believing what we had heard.
“When we stood there, undecided, he started hitting us with the rifle butt.
“‘Schneller, Schneller,’ they shouted from all sides.
“We started to undress. Later, the SS men burst into the compartments with dogs and chased us outside. We were not allowed to stand for a minute. We had to go forward completely naked: men, women, and children. The dancer, still in her bathing suit, was walking next to me. She was the only one who did not get undressed. An SS man, apparently the commandant of the guards, approached her. ‘Beautiful girl, take off your suit,’ he said quietly, coming closer and closer to her. Then, all of a sudden, with a rapid movement, she grabbed the pistol out of his holster and shot straight at him. After that, she took three steps backward and shot at the SS men who were running all over the place. She saved the last bullet for herself. She fell to the ground. The panic was extraordinary. There was shooting and yelling from every direction. We couldn’t run away because we were naked and we didn’t know the camp. I stood next to the heroic, dead girl not knowing what to do next. Suddenly, I felt somebody grab my hand and throw a dress in my direction. Then he pulled me by the hand and dragged me behind some gate, finally bringing me here. It was a German soldier. He left without a word.”
This was the story of the young French girl. We listened to the story as if we were hearing the most beautiful music.
“That’s how you’re supposed to die,” said Magda.
We did not discuss the subject further. That day a French girl died in the camp. Our arrival from the night transport was given her number and her name. Who was the German soldier who had saved a young Jewish girl’s life? We never found out.