Terezin is a small town about sixty kilometers (forty miles) northwest of Prague, the capital city of Czechoslovakia. In 1780, Emperor Joseph II built a fortress there that he named after his mother, Maria Theresa. The fortress was built to protect the town from invaders. But in 1939 German troops occupied this part of Czechoslovakia, and in 1941 Terezin became Theresienstadt, a concentration camp.
When John and his family first learned that they were being sent to Theresienstadt, they hoped that living conditions there would be decent, and that they would soon be able to return home. “The Allied forces are getting the upper hand, and the Germans are starting to lose. In three months, the war will be over,” said John’s father optimistically. “Besides,” he added, “Theresienstadt is not that far away, and at least it is here in our own country.” Somehow, that was a reassuring notion. As long as they were not leaving their homeland, things could not be all that bad.
When the Nazis first established Theresienstadt as a concentration camp, they had several plans. The camp was meant to hold prominent Jews of Czechoslovakia, as well as some from Germany and other western European countries. For many prisoners, Theresienstadt would be a temporary location. From there, they would be sent to concentration camps in the east.
Theresienstadt was disguised as a “model” Jewish community. This meant that people were fooled into believing that Jews would be treated well there, that they would be given housing, adequate food, and proper medical care. Supposedly they would be kept there for their own protection, and they would be given work. These lies were meant to convince people that the Nazis were treating Jews decently. In reality, the conditions in Theresienstadt were terrible, and the ultimate Nazi plan was for all the prisoners to be sent on to death camps in the east.
Of course, the Jewish families of Budejovice were not aware of this plan. They knew people were being deported to the east. They had heard rumors of horrible living conditions and death camps. But they believed that Theresienstadt was the exception. They hoped and prayed that they were going to a place that would keep them safe until the war was over.
John tried to think of the move to Theresienstadt as a new adventure. Things were so boring in Budejovice. Without the swimming hole and Klepy, there was nothing to do and nowhere to gather with friends.
“Will I see Beda in Theresienstadt?” he asked his mother.
“Probably,” she replied. “All the Jewish families are going.”
Not far away, Beda and his family were also preparing for the move to Theresienstadt. Frances wrote a letter to her cousin Otto, who still lived in Brno.
Yesterday we received our transportation numbers. Mine is 391. Beda’s is 392, Mother’s 393, Reina’s 394, and Father’s 395. Uncle Moritz is 361 and Aunt Olga 362. On Tuesday, we will go to the Kohn frame factory. We are all packing now. I am baking some cookies. Do not grieve. I don’t care. We hope it is all for just a short time. And then we will all meet again.…
The most difficult part of the move was trying to figure out what to take. Each person was allowed only fifty kilograms (110 pounds) of luggage, which was not very much. Should they take summer or winter clothing? What about books, favorite toys, photo albums or food? “What will happen to all our things that are left behind?” worried John’s mother.
Despite the dangers, Zdenek Svec had remained friendly with John through all this time. Now Zdenek’s family reached out to help. John’s mother gave her fur coat, some artwork, and several expensive rugs to the Svec family, for safekeeping.
“We will hide your things for you,” promised Zdenek’s mother. “They will be here waiting for you when you return. I hope it’s not long. God bless and keep you.”