When the truck had disappeared into the distance, I turned around and noticed, for the first time, that about forty children were grouped near the fence. Their ages ran from ten months to eighteen years. Most of them were under ten years of age. A few women from the hospital were caring for the babies and the very small children.
‘Are we going back to the barrack now?’ I asked, turning to Mr Weiss, who had followed us to the fence.
‘No, Hetty,’ Mr Weiss said, ‘a truck is coming for all the children in a moment. You are all going away.’
Hope flickered in my heart that we would follow Mum, but that was not to be.
We were standing around or sitting on our suitcases. Our tears had dried, but all the children, including myself, were in a state of shock. The cruelty of it all had left its mark. Some women were walking up and down with crying babies, little children were walking aimlessly around in the area to which we were confined, crying out for their mothers. From somewhere a few bottles of milk arrived for the crying babies. The women carers fed them.
Although we were still within the perimeter of our camp, just outside the fence two armed guards were watching us. Mr Weiss had come over to us a few times but could only stay for a short while. His presence instilled some calm, but each time he left, the children cried and cried. At last, at about four o’clock the truck arrived to take us away. Mr Weiss and some other men were allowed to help us onto the trucks. They lifted up the children one by one, but the babies were handed over to me and one other girl. We were the oldest of the children.
With sad eyes, Mr Weiss and the few men waved us goodbye as the truck started to move. The children had stopped crying. The ride in the truck took their attention away from their misery. Our camp lay behind us and we passed the Häftling camp. Those poor creatures were still standing on their Appelplatz. They must have been there for eight hours by now.
The trucks passed the food store and we could see Chris, the fat SS officer in charge, standing at the door. Two pretty women from our camp, who were working at the storeroom, were standing next to him. I was glad to see familiar faces and I waved at them. We went through the gate and into the camp reserved for the SS. The trucks slowed down and stopped in front of a building with big double doors. We were told to alight. The older boys helped the little ones down from the trucks. I handed Max the baby I was holding and then came down myself. I turned and helped little girls and boys off the truck.
We were herded into the building, which turned out to be the SS garage. When we entered, we saw the luggage our mothers had taken with them and understood that they must have been ordered to leave it behind in the garage. Soon the children had identified their personal luggage and taken possession of it. After finding out the name of the baby, I told Eva, the tallest girl, and some other children, to find his mother’s suitcase, as we desperately needed to change his nappy. We made a little corner with a blanket so we could put the baby down, and Max was relieved when I removed the baby from his arms. It was amazing how quickly the children found the suitcase, and when Eva opened it, we were happy to find a clean change for the baby. Eva offered to change the baby so I could attend to the other one. The children quickly brought me the suitcase which belonged to the second baby. The baby was about ten months old, but not so very small. Two girls of about ten told me that they could change the baby. I let them do it as there were other things to attend to. The little ones of walking age all had wet pants and were crying their eyes out. Again, I enlisted the seven or eight-year-olds to find suitcases, after I found out the names of the tiny ones. It took some sorting out and it took a while to change them all. When I went through the suitcases left behind by the mothers, I felt like an interloper into the private belongings of other people, but I told myself that the mothers would be happy that their children were being taken care of. I made sure that all belongings, such as soiled clothing, were returned to the right suitcases.
We had been in the garage for at least two hours. Nobody guarded us and we had been left to our own devices. Everybody was very tired. We had been on our feet since early in the morning without any food or drink. It was very cold outside and the light was fading fast. Stars appeared and the moon was rising. As darkness settled in the garage, most of the children were terrified in the unfamiliar surroundings, especially as their mothers were not here to comfort them. They were cold and hungry. Pandemonium broke out. A chorus of crying voices screamed in fright and horror. Iesy suggested that we all should cry out in unison, and as we were so desperate we tried to do it. On the count of three we all screamed in the hope that someone would hear us. We kept it up until our voices began to fail us.
By now it was very dark in the garage. The only light was from the moonlight, which filtered in through the open door. Nobody came near us. We huddled together and felt lost and forlorn. Through the darkness I felt my way to the door and looked out. There was no one in sight, the road was deserted. Some lights were burning in the SS quarters. The children kept on screaming, it was ear-splitting. This was not just crying anymore, it was the sound of desperation. We had lost our fathers and our mothers in a matter of two days and now, after having been left alone for hours in the garage, we believed that we had been forgotten by the world.
I was sitting on one of our suitcases when two shadowy figures appeared in the doorway. A torch was lit and shone into the garage. One of the two walked in and switched on the lights. What a sorry sight we must have been. About forty children were huddled together in the corner with tired, tear-stained faces. As I was the nearest one, the guards asked me where we came from. I told him that we had come from Sternlager at about four o’clock that afternoon. The two men conversed with each other, and then one left. The man who stayed with us in the garage did not wear the uniform of the SS, his uniform was green. He looked about fifty years old and held his rifle in readiness. When the light had been switched on, the crying stopped for a little while, and during the lull we heard a St Nicholas party in progress in the SS barracks. The SS were singing St Nicholas songs at the top of their voices.
The crying and screaming started again; when one child stopped another would start. They were bewildered and without hope. I approached the guard and politely asked him what the time was. He told me it was a quarter past nine. He asked me if I could stop the children from crying. My German was very limited, so it took me some time to understand what he was saying. I told him in broken German sign language that they were very hungry and tired.
The guard looked ill at ease amid this misery. After he understood what I had tried to tell him he nodded his head and said, ‘Don’t go away! I will come back!’ He then left the garage. I did not understand what he meant by ‘Don’t go away.’ Where would I go?
I walked back to where the small children were sitting huddled together on the floor. Their eyes swollen from crying, they were totally exhausted by their ordeal. The worst of the wailing had quietened down. They were spent. Some of the little ones were even asleep on the cold concrete floor. They were worn out and, mercifully, sleep had taken over. I told some of the older boys to get some blankets which I had noticed rolled in bundles between the suitcases. I covered the little ones with these blankets as the night was really cold. I told the other children not to cry anymore but try to sleep and tomorrow when it was light again, we would try to find out where mummy was. With the help of the bigger children, we tried to make them comfortable and cover them up as well as possible.
I also told the older children to make themselves comfortable by sitting on the suitcases. Everybody was so very tired from the long, long hours on our feet, the traumatic upheaval we had experienced, as well as having had nothing to eat all day. It became quiet now. Most of the little ones were sleeping. By now the older ones were talking to each other in low tones, all afraid to go to sleep. I was tired but not sleepy.
About an hour after the guard had left us, he returned with two male prisoners who each carried a large carton. At the same time, a car arrived. Two men entered the garage with their arms full of blankets. I recognised the men from our camp. When Mr Weiss had found out that we were being held in the SS garage, they arranged for the blankets to be delivered to us. How they had been able to arrange this was a mystery to me, but we were very glad as now the older children could have some covers as well. When the four men left, the guard called me over and pointed to the two cartons standing on the floor. He nodded his head in approval, motioning me to look into the boxes. I hesitated. I did not trust him. I walked slowly towards the two cartons and then looked at the guard again. He did not say a word but made a movement with his head, indicating for me to look into the boxes. Ever so slowly, I opened the first box, still not trusting the guard’s meaning. I removed a paper cover and then I could not believe my eyes. Under the paper, I found thick slices of white bread sandwiches filled with thick butter and sugar. I lifted my eyes to look at the guard, too afraid to touch anything. He nodded approval and then turned away, making out he saw nothing.
I called out to Max and some of the older boys and girls who were still awake. They came towards me and, whispering, I told them of the heavenly gift the guard had brought us. We looked at the guard who had turned his back to us and, ever so carefully, we each took a sandwich from the box. I told some of the boys to take a sandwich to all the other children who were still awake but were bedded down for the night. I also told them to be as quiet as possible so as not to attract attention from someone passing by. We were so hungry, what a party we had! Fresh white bread with butter and sugar. For ten months we had eaten only dry brown bread a quarter of the size of one of these thick slices—our rations for twenty-four hours—and now, we had this huge amount. I looked into the second box, which was also filled to the top with those beautiful sandwiches. I contemplated waking the sleeping children to let them have their share, but decided against it. To sleep meant forgetfulness and the sandwiches would keep until they woke up. Max, Bram and Iesy came back for a second sandwich, their hunger was insatiable. I let them have one but told them although there were plenty more, we had better keep something for the next day. Looking at the faces of the children while they were eating, I told myself that from this moment on I would believe in St Nicholas. He indeed makes children happy on his birthday. I closed the lid of the box after I had eaten my delicious sandwich and joined the group of older children.
It was now half-past eleven. The chilly outside air penetrated the garage. Trucks could be heard coming down the road. They stopped in front of the garage, then two SS officers and a female guard entered. Most of the children who had been asleep woke up; a few kept sleeping from sheer exhaustion. We were told to move onto the trucks. The children, so rudely awakened, started to cry again. I went on the first truck with a lot of little children and Max and Jacky. I carried our suitcase, and Max carried the suitcase that Mum had left behind. The last to board our truck was Bram, his sister Bella, and Iesy. Bram and Iesy each carried a box of sandwiches. In the hurry I had forgotten about them as my attention had been taken by the little ones. The female guard came with us on the truck.
The truck drove fast. We had no idea where we were going. The night was jet black, the moon had disappeared behind the clouds. It was midnight. Nobody spoke, even the crying had stopped. I noticed that we left the camp through the main gate and that we were on the road towards Celle, but then the truck turned left and it seemed like we were driving aimlessly around in circles through the heather. For hours we drove like this. What evil plans did they have for us? The moon had come from behind the clouds and through the open rear end of the truck I could see the vast expanse of the Lüneburg Heath. There was no one in sight and no sound to be heard, only the engines of the trucks breaking the deathly silence. Then the trucks stopped. The female guard left the back of our truck and the driver from the second truck came over to our driver. We could hear them discussing something. Our driver seemed very upset as we could hear him say, ‘Nein, nein,’ a few times but we could not follow the conversation. What were they talking about? Were they going to kill us? We were silent, feeling the danger around us. After about ten minutes of arguing, the female guard climbed back in our truck and we started to drive again. I realised that we were driving back in the direction of the camp, and as we entered Belsen again I saw that we were going towards the Sternlager, but the truck continued along the road and then near the end made a left turn. After about two minutes it stopped and we were told to alight. We were pulled out of the truck by the female guard before two tall, strong women prisoners arrived to take over from her. They were dressed in prison clothes with scarves around their heads. On seeing those scary skinny women, the children started to cry again.
The little ones were scared out of their minds and screamed in panic. Some of them clamped onto me, preventing me from moving. I told them not to be afraid, that I was with them. It took a few minutes to calm them down. Still holding tightly onto my coat, they allowed me some movement. The second truck arrived and its lights lit up the area. When our truck started to move away, one of the women prisoners went up to the driver and asked what they should do with the children. ‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘They can burn in hell.’
The trucks drove away and we were left standing close together in the darkness. The children were terrified and began wailing again. After my eyes became accustomed to the darkness I could see the vague outline of a barrack in front of us. A woman prisoner told us to enter the building, which looked ominous in the dark. Slowly we moved forward. When we came to the door, another woman prisoner with a scarf around her head to hide its baldness told us something in a language we could not understand and pointed in the direction we had to go. I felt very scared, but did not dare show it for the little ones’ sakes. When we entered the building my heart skipped a beat. There was what appeared to be a very long corridor. It was pitch-dark, and at the end of it stood an old woman holding up a kerosene lamp. If ever there was an image of a wicked witch, then this woman was certainly it. The sight of her scared the children again and they buried their faces in my coat, preventing me from taking another step. The figure at the end of the corridor did not move. She was standing deathly still holding up the lamp, which cast her shadow behind her. I realised we had to move forward. The children were hanging onto me like a dead weight. I raised my voice and told them very firmly to come with me, and that they did not have to be afraid. They had the choice of coming with me or I would leave them alone. It had the desired effect, they loosened their grip to allow me to move forward. I freed my hand from the little one who had been holding it tightly and allowed her to hold onto my coat. With my freed hand, I shoved the little ones behind me to protect them as much as possible with my body. Slowly we moved towards the figure. As we came closer I realised she was standing in a doorway. A faint light spilled out from the opening. Now we had come very close to her, she pointed to the doorway without saying a word. Trying to keep as much distance between us and the witch (I was convinced by now that she was a witch), we stepped into the room.
What a relief! The room was clean and had about ten double bunks where we could sleep. The beds took up about half the room and the other half was an empty space. Two chairs were standing against the wall, a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling spread sparse light, but enough for us to see everything. The children were also relieved and let go of my coat. Some had already moved towards the beds. I dropped my suitcase on the floor when I heard more screaming in the corridor. The children from the second truck had just seen the witch. I quickly returned to the corridor, so the terrified children could see me. I told them to come in, everything was okay. Soon all the children were assembled in the room. Eva and another girl had carried the babies. They put the babies on a bed. In the meantime, female prisoners carried in our suitcases and other belongings and stacked them in the middle of the open area of the room. Then they left and we were alone. Iesy and Bram were still holding our precious boxes of sandwiches. I told them to put them on the chair and asked if there were any children who had not yet had a sandwich. Iesy gave those who had not eaten a sandwich from the half-empty box.
Eva and I took control. We told everybody to find a bed and go to sleep. Those who were too small to climb up were assisted by the bigger boys. Amazingly, both babies were asleep although they had had nothing to eat. We had given them some water earlier, and that may have filled their tummies up. Then some little boy said, ‘I have to go to the toilet!’ We looked at each other. In our misery, we had overlooked that fact. What to do? Going outside into the long dark corridor was out of the question. We did not have any idea where we were or where to find the latrines. My eyes fell on a large green cooking pan in the luggage. One of the mothers must have brought it from Amsterdam. By the looks of it, it must have been used for a very large family. I told one of the boys to get the cooking pan, which had a lid. We placed it in the far corner of the room and I told the little boy to use it. After that, I got everyone out of bed again to use the pan. In the process, we found that some of the children had wet their pants already. It had been such a long day. Eva and I slipped those children out of their wet clothing and, after they did their business, we put them back to bed with bare bottoms, covering them with the blankets which had been brought to us in the garage. Thank God no one had wet their bed yet.
We were all on the point of collapse, so I suggested we should go to sleep. All the beds except the one nearest to the door were occupied. In some beds, four children were sleeping, two on each end. The bigger children had sorted their beds out and chosen their own partners. I had chosen the double top bed which I shared with Max, Jacky and Louky. I was the last to climb onto the bed. I left the light on, so if someone woke up to use the pan, they could see where they were going and I also felt safer that way. I must have fallen asleep as soon as I lay down. It was three o’clock in the morning.
I was awoken by Emile, who called me to tell me the pan was full. Light was filtering through the window. It was a wintry grey morning. Most of the children were still asleep from sheer exhaustion. Emile told me that he had opened the unlocked door on the far end of the room.
‘It takes you outside,’ he said.
I woke Max and Louky and told them to take the cooking pan outside and empty it.
‘Try not to make too much noise to wake the children,’ I said.
Max and Louky were still sleep-weary when they climbed down to do what I had asked them. It was amazing how all the children accepted my authority. I suppose I represented the mother they had just lost. They had unreservedly put their trust in me and without hesitation I had taken it upon myself to look after them as best as I could.
Emile opened the door for Max and Louky as they carried out the pan and the three of them disappeared out of sight. They soon returned with the empty pan, just in time, as the children woke up and there was a big demand for the pan.
The babies woke up and started to cry. They were very, very hungry. By now, we had found some small pots and containers in the suitcases, and I sent Emile outside to find a tap to fill containers with water. We also found some small bowls. I put some of the white bread with sugar and butter in two bowls and, with the water Emile brought me, I managed to soften the bread into some sort of porridge for the babies. Eva and another girl had found some clean clothing for the babies and had changed them by the time I had the porridge ready. There were plenty of helpers ready to feed the babies. Some of the older girls enjoyed doing it.
For breakfast, with the help of Iesy, we gave each child half a sandwich. The other half, we told them, they could have at night. Cold water was the only drink we had. Silence fell as everyone enjoyed their sandwich. We left the children to do their own thing. Emile went outside with another boy to do some exploring and to find a toilet block. They soon came back, as it was very cold outside. They had found a latrine not far from our barrack. The biggest children could manage this, but not the little ones, so we decided they should use the cooking pan during the day as well. As we were using every inch of the open space in the room now that everyone was up and about, we put the cooking pan on top of an empty bed.
Iesy, Eva, Louky, Bram, Max and I decided to discuss our position. We sat on top of my bed. The double bunk allowed us to sit in a circle. We were with forty-four children and we were the oldest, and we had to take care of the little ones. Iesy suggested that we go through all the luggage to see if there was some food in it, and if we found anything, to put it all together. We agreed. The boys climbed down to go through the luggage. Eva went down to attend to the children, who as young as they were, knew or sensed the predicament we were in. They did not cry anymore as they felt secure within our group. We had a roof over our heads, we had beds and there was enough food for today. Soon, some younger boys started to help with the search through the suitcases. When they found something, they brought it to me on the bed. When the last suitcase was searched, we took stock: two packets of biscuits as hard as rocks, half a packet of sweet biscuits, a half-empty small tin of tea, half a small tin of milk chocolate powder, a very small bag of soap powder and a near-empty small tin of milk powder.
The boys came up onto the bed to survey the goods. It was obvious that none of the food could sustain us except for the few biscuits and the little bit of milk powder for the babies. It would not still our hunger in the days to come. I put it all in our suitcase and took it into my control. I told the boys to stack the luggage against the wall in the far end corner of the room. They were glad to have something to do and they made a good job of it. This way, we had some more space and an open area.
The day dragged by. No one came near us and we did not mind. It was as if we were in a world of our own. We had a chance to recover from the trauma of the day before. When daylight started to fade, I handed out, with the help of Iesy and Eva, the other half of the sandwiches. For the babies I made porridge again, like I had done in the morning. We still had about three-quarters of a box of sandwiches left for the next day. For security reasons, the box of sandwiches was placed on top of my bed. Everybody went to bed early and it was not long before we were all asleep.
After breakfast the next day some of the boys had gone outside to explore the surroundings. It was very quiet in this part of the camp. When the boys came back they said there were a few more barracks in this section of the camp, but most of them were empty and no one was around. Iesy and Max had been in a barrack full of women lying on beds. They told us that they looked very scary, with skinny faces and their eyes deeply sunken in their sockets. I told Max and Iesy not to go to that barrack again as the women could have some awful illness.
I had not ventured outside yet, as the little children needed me. They looked so forlorn and although the crying in unison had stopped, now and then a little one would cry for his or her mummy. The ten-month-old baby called Phillipje was very quiet. He would just lie there and stare into space. Now and then a smile touched his little mouth when I spoke gently to him, or tickled him under his chin. He emanated sadness and must have missed his mummy. He was not active and I had not seen him sit up yet. He was not skinny, so his mother must have been able to feed him somehow. I was glad in one way that he was a good baby. This allowed me to give my time to the other children. The other baby was, I thought, about twelve months old, but I could not be sure. She was a girl and no one knew her name. And then there was little Robby, who was about three years old. He had such a pretty face, blond hair and blue eyes. He did not say one word, even when he was spoken to. He looked so lost and lonely, poor little Robby. I sometimes gave him a cuddle, but never a smile came to his eyes. It was as if he had built a wall around himself, which was hard to penetrate. I decided that I would keep a special eye on him and one day I might gain his confidence. Slowly I got to know the names of most of the children.
You cannot keep young girls and boys indoors forever, and groups of three or four would go outside and return a while later. They reported that the latrine was brand new, so it appeared that we were the first inhabitants in this part of the camp. Later in the afternoon I had to go out myself and one of the boys showed me the way. It was so peaceful here, not a sound could be heard. The sky was light grey, the air crisp but not cold. I was glad to be out in the open air for those few minutes and I filled my lungs with it. When I returned to the barrack I asked if anyone had come to see us. The answer was negative. I could not understand why no one came to see us or brought us food. Someone wanted to forget about us, I thought, but I kept this thought to myself. No use worrying the others with it.
It was about four o’clock when all the children returned from outside. There was nothing much they could tell me, but they had discovered that the building where the shoe detail worked was situated between our old camp and the one we were in now. This at least established our position. They also reported that they had found the gate to the main road, which was open, with no one there to guard it. They had not ventured outside the gate although no one was in sight there either. Thank God, I thought, and I told them that it had been a wise decision not to go outside the gates.
Night was falling. Someone switched on the light and Iesy went and retrieved the box of sandwiches from the top of my bed and put it on top of the chairs in the middle of the room. Everybody lined up in a queue, which slowly passed Iesy and me as we handed each child the last half of the white bread sandwiches left in the box. When we finished, there were four halves left. Iesy and I decided to keep these to feed the babies the next day. Some of the children were sitting on the floor eating their evening meal and others were sitting on their beds. This time Eva had made the ‘porridge’ and when some girls had finished their meal, they volunteered to feed the babies. For a while we were sitting around talking to each other. A few little girls were sitting close to me and I gave them a hug. Eva was reading a story from a book she had found in the luggage to a group of children who were listening intently. How idyllic it looks, I thought. One would think we were on holidays. Through the windows I saw that night had begun. It was pitch-dark outside, not a star could be found in the sky.
‘I think it’s time to go to sleep,’ I told everybody. ‘It’s getting cold, so get under your blankets.’
No one undressed. We slept in our clothing except for the babies, who had been changed after their meal. We had to find a way to wash the babies’ things, as soon we would have nothing to change them into. One empty suitcase was used to store the soiled baby goods. But that problem, I will somehow resolve tomorrow, I thought, as I also climbed up on my bed.
Soon the children were asleep except for Iesy and me. We sat on the end of my bed talking in whispers. Iesy was intelligent and in him I found support. He was about thirteen years old, a year younger than myself. I told Iesy of my concern that no one had come to see us and that no food whatsoever was brought to us. We felt trapped. Could we go through the gates to get help? We really did not know what to do.
‘If no one comes tomorrow, I’ll call out to the guard in the tower and tell him we are alone here,’ I said to Iesy.
Iesy thought it much too dangerous and advised me against it.
‘I understand that,’ I said, ‘but what are we going to do? All the sandwiches are finished and we have nothing to eat tomorrow!’
We talked and talked about ways to get out of our predicament, but we could not see a solution. It was getting late and Iesy suggested we try to get some sleep.
Iesy was just moving away to his bed when the door opened and two women entered. They were the first people to come and see us in two days. The shorter of the two was a strong woman: her blue blouse strained over her breast and her short sleeves revealed strong arms. Neither of them showed signs of hunger or starvation, indeed they appeared well fed. My instincts, although I had never encountered anyone like them before, told me that these two women were ‘Prominents’. Prominents had special privileges, granted by the SS, as they kept the prisoners in their control. They were not dressed like other prisoners. They both wore black skirts and leather boots. Their high cheekbones showed them to be of Polish or Russian descent. For a moment, the two women observed the surroundings and then the short one spoke to me in Polish. When she saw that I could not understand it, she asked in German, ‘Jewish children?’
For a moment I hesitated before nodding. The woman became agitated and spoke urgently to the second woman. What they were talking about, I did not know. The woman said, ‘Hunger,’ and made a movement with her hand toward her mouth to make sure I understood. I thought it advisable not to tell her that we had had sandwiches tonight, but I thought of tomorrow and nodded.
‘I’ll come back,’ she said and then she left with the other woman. I was still staring at the door as it had all happened so quickly.
Iesy climbed back onto my bed.
‘What was that?’ he asked.
I told him what had happened.
‘What do you think of it?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. I don’t like that she asked me if the children were Jewish!’
Iesy nodded.
‘I hope we don’t have to move tonight, the children are sleeping so nicely,’ I said.
‘We had better go to sleep. Sitting up is not helping us. Tomorrow, we’ll see what happens,’ Iesy said.
Iesy went back to his bed carefully, so he would not wake up his bedmate, and I decided to do the same, and try to get some sleep. As I lay down next to Max, under the blanket, I was thinking about the two women. I was amazed that they did not feel the cold. They both wore only cotton blouses with short sleeves, and yet they looked strong and healthy. They still had their hair and each wore a head scarf in the manner of a Russian peasant. I had no doubt that the shorter woman was the boss.
I woke to hear footsteps coming down the corridor. Immediately I sat upright, my whole body tense, afraid of what might happen next. I could hear voices. The footsteps came nearer and then the door was opened. The two women had returned and, behind them, four women prisoners carried two twenty-litre food containers. The short woman told the prisoners to place the food containers in the middle of the room. She then ordered them to leave. From the top of my bed, I watched with great relief. When I heard them coming down the corridor, I was worried that we might have to move again. The two women, after having observed the sleeping children, also started to leave. At the door, the shorter woman looked up at me and said, ‘Start eating.’
The noise created by the arrival of the food had woken up a few children. Iesy, Max and Emile had left their beds already to investigate the food containers. I climbed down to have a look. Iesy tried to open the lid of one of the containers but without success. The catch stayed firmly shut. By now, Bram had joined us. He took hold of the levers but only managed to lift the lid a little bit, not high enough to release the spring, so the lid would stay open. Bram let go.
‘All right,’ I said, ‘when Bram tries to lift the handle again, you, Iesy and Max, put your hands on the levers to stop them from springing back. I will count to three and together you will pull it up.’
Max and Iesy placed themselves in position. Bram put his hand on the lever and said, ‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes!’ Max and Iesy said.
Bram started to pull with all his might. When the levers came up enough to allow Max and Iesy to place a hand around them, I started to count, ‘One ... two ... three.’ The boys started to force the lever up with all the strength they possessed. Their faces were contorted with the pressure. They were not very strong. Ten months of slow starvation had taken its toll. Slowly the lever came up until, with a mighty click, it released its hold on the containers. Out of breath but excited by their victory, it took them only a second to release the second lever, as the pressure had been released when the first lever was opened.
By now, more children had awoken and come out of their beds to find out what was happening. Iesy lifted the lid. A beautiful aroma penetrated our nostrils. Inside the container was a thick creamy potato soup. We could not believe our good luck. In no time everybody who was up and about produced a soup bowl and helped themselves to a generous portion of soup. We sat on the floor, close to the containers, as if afraid that it would disappear. It tasted so good! No one spoke as we relished this delicious food, a food we could only have dreamed about during the past ten months. Through the steam rising from his soup bowl Iesy’s eyes met mine; we knew we did not have to worry about how to feed the children for the next two days.
When some of the boys wanted to help themselves to a second serving I told them not to do this as ‘too much of a good thing could make you sick’. I also suggested that everybody went back to bed. Bram placed the lid on the container but did not close the clips, to make it easier to get it open in the morning. Iesy put a small suitcase on the lid to keep it down firmly so the soup would stay warm. After that, everybody went to bed and within seconds we were all asleep.
The next morning I woke up to find the suitcase on my bed was open. That seemed strange as I was sure I had closed the lid the night before. I went through the contents of the suitcase: no sugar had been taken and the jars were still there. On further investigation, I found that half the sweet biscuits were missing from the packet. I called Iesy and Max over to discuss the matter. I was very angry, and in my anger I raised my voice while asking Max and Iesy who they thought could have done this. Both had no idea who could have done such a cowardly act. Most of us were not hungry the night before, so who could it be? If we were to survive, we could not tolerate pilfering. Louky, who had climbed up on the bed, interrupted our conversation.
‘Hetty, a little boy said that Emile did it!’
I remembered that Emile had done something like this before. I had to be sure so I told Louky to bring this little boy to me. Louky climbed down and returned with the boy. From the top of my bed I asked the little boy, whose name I did not know, ‘Tell me! How do you know that Emile stole the biscuits?’
‘I saw him eat the biscuits early this morning,’ the little boy answered.
‘Are you sure?’ I asked him again.
‘Yes, I am sure,’ he replied.
‘It’s true,’ a little girl said. She had been standing close to Louky and the boy, and had followed what was being said with interest.
‘If you make these accusations, you have to be very sure of it,’ I said, turning to the girl.
‘Well,’ the little girl said, ‘it is true because I saw it too! He ate three biscuits and he was sitting in that corner.’ She pointed to the end of the last row of the beds and I realised that the place she was pointing to was out of view from my position.
‘Where is Emile? I want to speak to him,’ I said to Louky.
‘I believe he went outside a while ago,’ he said.
‘Go and find him, and take Jacky with you,’ I told him.
Jacky and Louky left through the back door.
‘What are we going to do with Emile? He seems to be incorrigible,’ I said to Iesy and Max.
‘Wait until we hear what Emile has to say,’ Iesy said.
‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘We’ll listen to what he has to say.’
The other children in the room were well aware of what was happening. They were wise at an early age, these children, and most of them had learned to deal with the hard times and crises which took place from day to day since they had arrived in Belsen. The happy mood which had prevailed because they were going to get a good breakfast of potato soup, now turned into a depressing atmosphere. In all this unpleasant mess, I had forgotten to feed the kids. I came down from the bed and told everybody to line up to receive their soup. It was heartwarming to see their faces. Iesy moved the suitcase from the top of the container and opened the lid. The soup was still warm. The children were holding up their bowls and Eva was filling them up as they passed by, one by one. Soon everybody had been served. Iesy and I were the last.
I was just sitting down on a suitcase to eat my soup when Louky and Jacky returned with Emile. Not wanting to spoil the happy mood and also wanting to delay the unpleasantness I knew would follow, I told the three boys to get their bowls and help themselves to a good portion of soup, which they did without delay. When everyone was finished, we stacked the bowls and I told three girls and three boys to take them to the tap outside and wash the bowls and spoons. Two other boys wanted to go as well, so I told them to help carry some of the bowls to the tap. The weather was nice and the sun was shining. The chilly air of dawn was gone.
‘Leave the back door open when you go out,’ I told the small group, as they prepared to leave with the bowls. So, I thought, these children are out of the way. I quickly got Iesy, Max, Louky, Bram and Eva together and we all climbed onto my bed. We sat in circle and we all looked very serious, as the responsibility of dealing with this matter now rested on our young shoulders. I called Emile to come up. Emile sat opposite us. While he was settling down, I studied his face. Emile was quite a good-looking boy. He had nice black hair and, surprisingly, made a very decent impression, but there was something about him which made him appear distant and impenetrable. I told Emile that biscuits were missing from the suitcase and that it was alleged that he had stolen them during the night. To our surprise, Emile immediately admitted that he had done it. He showed no remorse, only a deadpan look. I asked him why he did it, but he just shrugged his shoulders, indicating he had no answer.
‘You know what you have done is very serious?’ Iesy asked.
Emile did not answer, but looked straight ahead. We did not know what to say, so I said, ‘You’d better get down, Emile! But don’t go away!’
Emile climbed down and the five of us turned to each other and started to discuss the situation in low voices. What could we do? I was very angry as I remembered that Emile had done this earlier in the Albela camp, and Max and Jacky had been blamed before they had caught him. We could not let Emile get away with it scot-free as this would not be a good example for the other children. I believed that whatever punishment we meted out, we would never cure Emile of his affliction.
Different methods were proposed, but were rejected until Iesy said, ‘What about if we let Emile empty the pan every morning for a week? This is an unpleasant task and it may teach him a lesson.’
We all agreed this was the best idea. Louky called Emile to come up again and he was informed of our decision. I asked Emile if he agreed and he said, ‘Yes.’ After this, our ‘court’ broke up and Bram, Emile, Max, Louky and Eva went below. Iesy and I sat a while longer discussing what had happened. We decided to keep a close eye on Emile in the future.
It was about eleven o’clock in the morning when the door opened and the two women who had visited us before, and brought us the potato soup, entered our room accompanied by two other women. We immediately noticed ‘an air of authority’. Later we found out that one woman was second in charge to the camp elder of all the prisoners. She was a mature prisoner who had been in Auschwitz for many years. She was a prominent and a kapo. Kapos were feared for their brutal treatment of prisoners. The other woman was a doctor.
The children, who had until this moment been happily chatting away, fell silent. As young as they were, they recognised danger in a flash. I was just washing little Johnny’s face when they came in, and I pulled Johnny close to me for protection, but the women did not take much notice of us. After a fleeting glance, the tall woman started to talk to the other one in Polish, which we could not understand. I could see the short woman pointing at us and talking persuasively with the kapo. I also noticed she was very respectful to her. After about five minutes’ discussion, they started to leave. During the time they were there, the short woman never looked my way, nor did she address any question to me. Just as they were passing through the door, the short woman turned to me and said, ‘Do you need more soup?’
Without hesitation, I said, ‘Yes.’
‘I will bring it later,’ the woman said.
After they left, it took us a few minutes to be ourselves again, and we were glad they had gone.
‘What do you think about that?’ Iesy asked me.
‘I don’t know,’ I answered, ‘I only hope we don’t have to move again.’
The back door was open and we could see a column of women prisoners walking past towards the empty barracks.
‘It looks like the empty barracks will be occupied,’ Iesy said. ‘I’ll go out and see what’s happening.’
‘You do that,’ I said. ‘I’ll stay with the children. If you see any of them outside, tell them to come back. Anything can happen outside and we had better stay in. We seem to be the protégés of prominents in the camp.’ Iesy left with Louky and Max after these words of caution.
At about three o’clock most of the children had returned to our room. After doing a headcount, I was missing three children. The weather had turned bleak, the sky was deep grey and the clouds were hanging very low. I felt ill at ease that three of the children had not returned. After asking around, I was told that Erika and another girl were believed to be in the toilet, as they were seen there last. I sent two boys to find them and told them to return to our room immediately. They returned about ten minutes later with the girls. I gave Erika and the other girl a scolding and told them not to stay away for long periods of time, as I wanted to be sure they were safe. They promised not to do this again. Now only Jacky was missing and nobody knew where he was. How could I have been so stupid not to have given him more attention, I asked myself. I promised Mum I would look after him.
Jacky was a quiet boy, a bit of a wanderer. Even back home he would disappear for hours, and he often used to worry our lovely Oma with his absence. But to our great relief, he always returned safe and sound. I remembered the day when the street organ had played in our street—Jacky was only four years old, and when the organ moved on from street to street, he followed it for hours, not returning until about half-past five that day. The spanking he got from our always gentle Oma only relieved her anxiety but taught Jacky nothing. The other time I clearly remembered was when he borrowed my brand-new bicycle to take it for a spin around the block. He did not return for five hours, and I had never seen our Oma in such a state. She imagined Jacky lying injured on the road and every other terrible thing, and she kept on saying, ‘What will I tell your mother?’ I was in an upset state as well but my concern was centred around my beautiful bike. Jacky was too small to reach the saddle and he was standing on the pedals in order to ride the bike. He barely rose above the handlebars. As the afternoon wore on, the more concerned we became. At about five o’clock when dusk was settling in, Jacky returned. Needless to say, he was in all kinds of trouble from us.
I came back to the present and decided that I would wait another half an hour before I allowed myself to panic. Just then, the door opened from the corridor. Two women carrying a container of food walked in. After placing it next to the other, one woman made a gesture, asking me if she could take the old containers back. I pointed to one container and made a movement with my hand to tell her to leave it where it was. She understood and picked up the empty container, and they both left. Soon after, Jacky returned. I gave him a good scolding, although I knew it was useless.
Eva and Iesy got out the bowls and I served the children their evening meal. By now the soup was lukewarm but that did not bother us. After dinner, the bowls were stacked in a corner. We would wash them in the morning. It was too dark to go outside now. Everybody prepared to go to sleep. It was still early in the evening but there was nothing else to do other than just hang around on the cold floor. The baby had been attended to and was sound asleep. I also decided to go to sleep. How safe we felt in this room, I thought, as I crawled under the blanket with my clothing on. Maybe it was our guardian angel, this woman whose name I did not even know. Deep in my heart, I was really scared of her. I had no doubt that she could be very tough. Her authority showed in her mannerisms, during the few times she had come to see us. I must find out her name, I thought, as I slowly drifted into sleep.
I woke up the next morning just as the dawn was lifting, looked out of the window and saw that the grey low-hanging clouds were still there. Max stirred next to me and slowly woke up, then Jacky and Louky.
Max sat up in a flash and said, ‘Emile has to take the pan out.’
That’s right. Jacky and Louky were clearly awake now and were looking around the room to see if Emile was up, but he was still fast asleep. Iesy, who was also awake by now, told Louky to wake Emile and tell him to take the pan out. With heavy, sleepy eyes, Emile got out of bed and began the operation. From the top of the bed Max and Jacky carefully lowered the nearly full pan to the Emile, who waited below with arms and hands stretched into the air to receive the pan. Expecting problems, I went down to direct operation ‘pan lift’ from the floor. I cautioned Max and Jacky to be careful as I did not want a mess on the floor. Looking at Emile as he stood there, I did not think he could carry the weight of the pan on his own and I could foresee a disaster. He had his hands on the handles.
‘Okay?’ Max asked.
‘Yes,’ Emile said.
At this, Max released his grip but a fraction earlier than Jacky. The result was devastating. The pan unbalanced slightly, spilling some of the contents over Emile and on the floor. Despite the mishap, Emile kept hold of the pan, preventing the rest of the contents from spilling out. He staggered back, still holding the pan.
‘Put it down!’ I yelled at Emile.
With a bang, Emile dropped the pan onto the floor, spilling more in the process.
‘Louky, go with Emile to empty the pan,’ I said.
Now, the weight was divided by two boys, the danger of spilling more had passed. Someone held open the back door to let Emile and Louky out, and we noticed that during the night it had snowed. The pristine white of the snow contrasted sharply with the grey clouds. It was dead still outside, not a sound could be heard. As a result of the drama with the pan, all the children had woken up, and they got excited when they saw the snow and wanted to go outside and play in it. I told them to have their breakfast first and then they could play for a while.
Louky and Emile returned with the empty pan, which had been rinsed under the tap at the end of our barrack. I sent Emile back to the tap with a piece of old towel to wash his face and wipe down his jumper, the only one he possessed. Eva took some of the children with her to wash the dirty bowls. While everybody was out I tried to clean up the mess on the floor with some rags I found in one of the cases. When everyone had returned, we all had breakfast. After that I told the boys and girls to go and wash the bowls again, so they would be clean for dinner. When they returned, I allowed all the children to play outside in the snow. It was a pleasure to see their clear eyes and rosy cheeks when they came in an hour later.
The day passed uneventfully and soon the evening meal was served. We had not been this well fed for the past ten months and I sent up a silent prayer of thanks. We had been left alone. No one had come that day. We had good food and good shelter.
During the day I told Iesy that someone needed to help Emile with the pan the next morning. We chose Louky because he seemed to get along well with Emile. We also decided that Bram, who was the tallest, should receive the pan from the top of the bed and place it on the floor, then Emile and Louky could take it outside. Louky was a nice boy, nine years old, with a lovely disposition, and he always had a friendly smile. He immediately agreed to help. In the morning the business with the pan started all over again, but this time no unpleasant accidents happened.