‘Was there solidarity in the camp?’

You might think that our shared fate would have brought us together. But the truth is that the solidarity was not what it could have been.

As often happens when a group ends up together, in-groups and out-groups formed. Girls who came from the same country stuck together, past prejudices prevailed, Polish-Jewish girls considered themselves better than the Hungarians, and the Hungarians thought themselves superior to the Polish. Within the Hungarian group, coteries also formed, as those who came from the same towns stuck together.

Those who came from the same area, perhaps on the same train, helped each other the best they could. If someone from the group had been given a role, such as working in the kitchen, that could give the others an opportunity for larger portions, for example. The girls shared their benefits with their group, and made sure that ‘their’ girls were prioritised. When food was given out it was of great importance to get the soup from the bottom of the pot. That was where the vegetables were, sometimes even a scrap of meat. We queued for the soup and glared jealously at the swinging of the ladle. Has it plunged far enough down, or will it be only water today? The block elder wanted to seem fair, so did not look at who was in line — the ladle was supposed to sink as deeply for everyone. But she knew where her pack was, if they were first, in the middle, or last. And then the ladle plunged properly.

The desire to stay alive was so strong that people would steal bread from their kin: daughter from mother, sister from sister. The opposite also happened, but more rarely. In my group, there was a woman who had previously been known as mean and selfish. Now, she showed herself to be self-sacrificing and generous, she helped where she could and gave up her own benefits when someone else was in greater need.

Denunciation was not rare. In order to enjoy some advantage, there were those who would inform on their friends. It happened to me. I was one of the few who knew German, and I was taller than the others, so when we were sent to work in Eidelstedt, I was appointed kapo. To be kapo meant being the extended arm of the SS, and making sure that the group worked hard. For this you were rewarded with an extra bowl of soup. You could not turn down the appointment, but you could sabotage the job.

After a short march to work, we arrived at a factory in ruins, where we had to clear up among the rubble. We were supposed to form a chain and pass bricks to the other side, to be placed in neat piles. My task was to ensure the girls were efficient, but I started by placing a lookout whose job it was to alert us when an SS guard approached. The girls could take it easy until the lookout gave warning, and then put their backs into it.

No more than two days passed before I was reported by one of the Polish girls. One bowl of soup meant that much to her.