BY
Elly Berkovits Gross
Today, I just turned fifteen; I felt so old, grown-up.
But when they ordered us to leave our home
I held my mother’s hand and asked where would we go?
Mother was holding my brother’s and my hands, but she could not say where we would go.
Mother embraced her trembling children’s hands.
The door opened quickly and I remember first seeing a soldier’s neck.
The order came, “Fast, get out fast from your home.”
Quickly, we were ready to leave our home.
Asking the question, “Misters, may I take a bottle of water, and please let me take a jacket for my five-year-old son?”
Mommy was cursed, almost hit, and she was called never-heard names.
The young man was from our street with whom in earlier times we climbed hills.
In our hands, nothing; In our heart, love for one another as we walked down our street.
The sun was shining, but did not shine on us.
Mother, brother, and I left our lovely home.
Father had been drafted two years earlier.
A year later, only I returned to our empty home,
as a lonely child, with a broken heart.
Barbed wire with high voltage, and watchtowers with soldiers.
I can see only four tall chimneys that pour ash and fire.
The air is full of heavy smoke; it smells like burned rubber.
I can never see the sun because the sky is blurry.
When the sun shines, it is still cloudy, and when it rains, the ground is muddy.
I walk on sand and stone. There is no grass or tree.
If some green would grow, without any shame, I would pick it to eat—even at the risk of being killed.
I am enclosed with my fellow inmates.
Our crime is that we were born Jews.
This place is forgotten by everyone in the world.
The Nazis and collaborators robbed us of everything: our freedom, our possessions, and ultimately, our families’ lives.
Our relatives are gassed, burned, their ashes thrown in the river.
We who were selected to the right are only temporary survivors.
Birds and butterflies never fly; they do not like smoke in the air.
I always wished to be a bird, so I could fly away.
To leave this sad place and go home to my parents.
But I did not have wings to fly like a bird or butterfly.
Mommy, all my teeth hurt and my mouth is always bleeding.
I am cold, where are you, Mommy?
I miss you, please come, Mommy, put your hand around my shoulder, kiss my cheek, my dear mother.
I am alone among strangers.
As soon as I see you, dear Mommy, all my pain will go away.
My back hurts, I am cold and shivering, come to me, Mommy.
Surrounded by strangers, no one cares that I am alone,
I miss you, please come, Mommy.
Mommy, I have a fever, I am cold, come to see me for a day or two, put your hand on my forehead, so the fever and pain will go away.
I ask adults, “Where is my mommy?”
“Please tell my mommy I miss her.”
No one tells me where my mommy is.
Adults do not help or ask how I feel, I have a sharp pain in my back, Mommy.
I cough badly, and I am ready to choke on large lumps of stinky beige paint.
Come put your hand on my shoulder, so I will stop coughing up beige paint.
Each day I pray that you come to see me, Mommy.
Mommy, I miss your hug, your kindness, and your love.
Come to your daughter.
Please put your hand on my back and forehead, so the pain will go away.
As soon as I see your lovely face, feel your kiss and touch on my forehead, all my sickness will go away.
Dear Mommy, when will you come to see me?
I am coughing loudly, it disturbs everyone and they complain, no one can sleep.
I am fifteen, a child. Please come, Mommy, help your daughter to get better, put your hand on my forehead, on my back, so all my sickness will go away.
I miss you, Mommy.
In the large pile of leather shoes, behind the unbreakable glass, a red sandal is standing out in the display.
Only one shoe, where is the other one?
Who wore that once good-looking sandal?
Where is the other sandal from the pair?
In this huge pile of victims’ shoes the other shoe is nowhere to be found.
The owner is not searching for her shoe.
Maybe she is long gone from this world.
By fate she could have been selected to the right, which meant a temporary survivor.
Why did she never return to look for her shoes?
Where did she disappear? Where did she go?
What was her fate? Did she suffer?
Who was the owner of the red sandal with the small white trimming? One can see it’s a small size and once looked good.
She had to be young to have a red shoe.
Who knows were she was sent on arrival.
Was the girl’s fate the gas chambers, or was she selected to the right which meant only temporary survival?
The long hours of roll calls, the food, the smoke in the air, the daily misery.
Occasional beatings, our shaved heads,
our bodies covered with rags. Often it rained.
It felt like a thousand needles stuck our bodies.
Many got sick. The Nazis calculated that a healthy person would survive six months.
On arrival, at the first bath, we placed our belongings under numbered hooks. None of us got our clothes, shoes, and other belongings back.
They were packed and shipped as bonuses into Germany.
For these shoes on display, the time ran out.
The Russian army liberated the camp. The Nazis could not ship the piles of victims’ shoes.
They remained as witnesses of the Nazi era.
The red sandal with white trimming stands out in the display. Where is its owner?
When she was born,
I put a red bow in her long auburn hair.
She had a round face and beautiful blue eyes.
When she did not cry, I would think that she was a doll from a store or a display in a museum.
When she was nine months old, she walked, and she balanced her fragile body with her small hands.
She was pretty, smart, and always asked questions.
Why are leaves green?
Why does water have no color?
Why is the milk white?
At the age of four, she read tales from books.
When she was five, she attended the first year of school.
She remembered every book she read, without looking into the book.
She was born witty and very pretty.
While I walked with her, people stopped to look at her beautiful face.
I was proud to have such a pretty child.
She grew to be a successful woman, a wife, the mother of two, and remains a loving, pretty daughter to us.
“Spring is here.”
The sun shines, and warms Mother Earth.
Meadows change color; new grass makes them green.
In the sky, wild geese fly, assure us that spring has arrived.
Birds are busy repairing or building new nests for their chicks.
In a few weeks, the weather gets warmer, nights are shorter, and days get longer, telling us, “Summer is here.”
In rainbow colors, flowers are blooming.
Birds are busy feeding, and teaching their new chicks to fly.
“Autumn brings breezes,” and days are getting shorter.
Hills are filled with fruits, and birds prepare to fly away to warmer places.
Soon the weather gets cooler and rain changes to snow.
Meadows and forests are covered with a white blanket.
“Winter has arrived.”
It puts nature to sleep, until the next spring.
Nature never gets old; the cycle is repeated, year by year.
My Hopes Are:
Health to my family and to us as old parents.
Success for my children and to see them happy.
My Dreams Are:
Peace on Earth, especially in the United States and in the State of Israel.
People never should be hungry. No one should be homeless.
All terrorists should resign. There should be no more destruction of buildings, no more car bombs.
I worry when I watch the news; often I would rather not listen. It hurts to hear that daily, somewhere in the world, many parents, spouses, and children lose their loved ones to terror. We who lived through the Second World War feel the pain of everyone who has lost a family member. For families, it is painful when old age or sickness takes one’s life away. Family members mourn for the loss of the departed, and forever they will keep the memory in their hearts. Tragedy hits every family who loses a loved one by accident or terror. A deep hole remains in the family’s heart that never entirely heals. The close relatives smile with tears in their eyes and with pain in their hearts. Family members can seldom truly laugh.
My Other Hopes Are:
To win the lotto to build an old age home for those who can’t afford an aide to help them and to build a home for orphaned children.
To live in good health, never to need others’ assistance for the existence of my everyday life.
These childhood memories reflect a worry-free, short childhood.
They are from the years 1936 and 1937, they are from the years before the cloudy sky fell on Jews.
They are from the years before the Hungarian invasion of Romania on September 10, 1940.
On our street, eight of us had a sort of friendship.
Four girls and four boys. After school, we played together.
Summers we climbed the hills to pick berries or wildflowers, mushrooms or chestnuts to take home to our mothers.
Winters we were on the ice. The cold did not bother us.
The friendship was only on the street or on the hills.
Our parents never would permit us to play in the house.
Rainy days were boring, especially on Saturday afternoons.
Some Saturday mornings, I went to visit Klari and play with her.
She lived on our street with her mother, Sari, and her aunt Berta.
Klari was my smart, pretty classmate, who played the violin.
Her father and her twin sister died many years before.
Klari never came to play on the street or climb the hills.
I played with her in their home. Mother allowed two hours
but while we were busy playing, I often lost track of time.
Because I got home late, for a few weeks I had to stay home.
Eagerly I awaited the Saturday I could play again with Klari.
School was six days a week. Relief came on Saturday
when there was more fun.
Those happy days did not last for long; life became harsh.
The children on the street abandoned me and called me names.
So-called friends never noticed me, I was very lonely.
On warm summer days I was not invited to climb the hills, collect berries, or pick wildflowers.
Nor on cold winter days to sled, build snowmen, or throw snowballs.
Time and mood had no space to a Jewish child. We children grew old early; life became harsh and miserable. In a short time, the wind blew everything away. Everyone’s hopes and dreams vanished.
Jewish lives were changed, destroyed, and wiped out.
On arrival in hell, at Auschwitz-II/Birkenau, Dr. Mengele, with a wave of his gloves, decided who should live, who should die.
Klari’s aunt Berta did not pass the selection.
Then in July of 1944, in Blocks 14 to 28 the 1,000 to 1,200
female inmates in each block were lined up naked. Klari and her mother did not pass this selection. As had many others, they disappeared forever.
For how long was I a child?