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Oral history interview with Pearl Gruenberg

Oral History | Digitized | Accession Number: 1993.A.0088.115 | RG Number: RG-50.002.0115

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    Oral history interview with Pearl Gruenberg
    Transcript
    [MUSIC PLAYING]
    Good afternoon.
    My name is Bernard Weinstein, and I direct the Kean College
    Oral Testimonies Project of the Holocaust Resource Center.
    We are affiliated with the Video Archives
    for Holocaust Testimonies at Yale University.
    We are privileged to welcome Pearl Gruenberg, a survivor
    presently living in Springfield, New Jersey, who has generously
    volunteered to give testimony about her experiences
    before, during, and after the Holocaust.
    Welcome, Mrs. Gruenberg.
    Thank you.
    I would like to begin by asking you to tell me
    a little bit about the town or city where you lived
    and about your early life.
    Well, I was born Okruhlá, Czechoslovakia.
    The town consisted approximately of 150 families,
    and nine of them were Jewish families, and all
    their relatives.
    We were seven children, four girls and three boys.
    My father owned a little grocery store,
    and besides that he was a merchant.
    The schools were taught in Russian.
    The people who lived in our village were mostly Hungarians.
    So I attended a Russian school.
    It was only really a school only went up to eighth grade.
    And after that, if anybody wanted to go to high school,
    they had to go to the city of [? Tačovo. ?]
    How far was [? Kačovo? ?]
    12 kilometers away.
    But my mother didn't allow us to go to high school
    because she says a nice Jewish girl doesn't go away from home.
    So we just remained in our own town.
    I really was the only Jewish kid in school,
    and I had mostly Gentile friends.
    I had a very good girlfriend.
    We were very close.
    She used to come to our house.
    I went to her house.
    And it was very-- we got along very good.
    My mother unfortunately-- my father passed away in 1934,
    so my mother was left with seven children and she--
    What did your father do for a living?
    He was in the grocery store.
    He was a grocery merchant.
    And he was an apple dealer in the summertime.
    And beside that, we had a summer resort,
    a house resort for the people who came
    to be cured from arthritis.
    My mother was left alone, so my brother
    used to help her out, my oldest brother.
    He was about 19 years old, and he helped out in the business.
    She didn't have an easy life.
    Seven kids was not easy to take care of.
    And most of our kids stayed home.
    They didn't go away no place.
    Everybody worked around the house, whatever they had to do.
    Everybody did their own chores.
    And this was not easy, but it was a pretty good life.
    What did being Jewish mean to you in that--
    Well, we were really observant, very observant Jews.
    I knew when I went to my girlfriend's house,
    I knew I was not supposed to have anything
    to eat in her house or do anything
    I wasn't supposed to do.
    We were really orthodox Jews.
    My father used to go to shul every--
    while he was alive-- every Friday, every Saturday.
    We observed the High Holidays very carefully.
    Strictly kosher.
    Everything was really in a kosher way.
    Did you experience any prejudice or anti-Semitism
    in the early years?
    Not really in the early years.
    But I remember when I was already
    like in seventh grade, the kids used to call me, sometimes,
    names.
    I was the only Jewish kid between all the children.
    They used to call me "dirty Jew" sometimes.
    Or when they had the morning prayers in school,
    I used to have to stand up.
    And I did-- you know, they used to cross themselves,
    but I didn't do it.
    I wasn't-- so they took my hand sometimes and made the cross
    on me, but that was really nothing.
    Was not-- no, it was not bad at all.
    We got along like one family.
    There was no problems at all.
    And there wasn't any problem between the adults either?
    No, no, no.
    Everybody was friends.
    Everybody was polite.
    And it was no problem, especially
    the Czechoslovakians, they were very nice people.
    They didn't give any problems to the Jews.
    They never looked for any trouble or anything.
    When did you sense that things were beginning to change?
    Well, in 1939 in the beginning, just before the Hungarians
    came in, there was a couple of Russian men
    sitting in the house and drinking, because we
    used to have--
    selling liquor and drinks.
    It was on a Sunday afternoon.
    It was three men.
    My sister was serving them the drinks,
    and then they had a little more to drink already.
    So one of them started to tell the other ones that
    no more will the Jewish people drink wine on Friday nights
    and have their challah and fish.
    We will be the bosses now in town.
    We will show them who is really going to do all that.
    They had a list already made out who
    they're going to kill in town, who was the first family
    to be killed.
    This was the [NON-ENGLISH SPEECH]..
    And I was only in the house with my sister.
    And I said to my sister, do you hear what they're saying?
    She says, no don't pay attention.
    They're too drunk.
    But that went into my mind, and I was really worried about it,
    and my sister was worried too.
    And my mother came home I told her about it.
    She says, eh, they're not going to live to see that.
    So that was just before the Hungarians.
    If the Hungarians would come in a couple of days later,
    none of our Jewish people in town
    would be alive today because they had all their lists made
    out, who is going to be perished, or what day,
    and how they're going to be doing it.
    The Hungarians made those lists.
    Not the Hungarians.
    The [NON-ENGLISH SPEECH],, the Russians.
    So we were lucky.
    A couple of days later, the Hungarians came in.
    I remember the date was 1939 in April on a Friday afternoon.
    My mother was home and preparing for the Sabbath, and my sister,
    we all were home.
    And all of a sudden, we heard people screaming.
    "The Hungarian are here.
    The Hungarians are here."
    We went outside on the porches, and he
    saw the soldiers marching in.
    We didn't know anything about that before.
    So everybody was very happy that the Hungarians came in,
    and everybody started to be excited about it.
    And they passed through the whole village,
    and then they stopped right in front of our house.
    There was a church, like a big field.
    The church was right next to it.
    It was the first stop for the soldiers.
    And there was a couple of Jewish boys between them,
    and we took out some water to drink for them because they
    looked so exhausted.
    And we gave out water to drink.
    And there was one guy, one Jewish man.
    He asked us if you know any Jewish families in town,
    because he's only eating kosher meals.
    So of course, we said, yes, we are Jewish.
    And he could have the meals with us.
    So I went inside, I told my mother.
    She said, OK, sure.
    Ask the Jewish boys, to anybody who wants to come in,
    they could come in and have their sabbath meals with us.
    So there was-- what it was.
    So they were around by four weeks,
    they stayed, the soldiers stayed around in our village.
    And everybody was very happy because the Hungarians came.
    The [NON-ENGLISH SPEECH] couldn't do any more there--
    killings-- because the Hungarians
    found a list, where they had already
    made out how to kill the people, the Jewish people.
    So that was really a miracle that time,
    that they didn't live to do it.
    Can I have a drink?
    Please.
    So dry.
    So in 19-- that year was very good, was not bad.
    Everybody was happy because before the Czechoslovakians,
    the first world war was Hungarians, our vicinity,
    I mean the whole [? Carpathians. ?]
    So my mother used to tell us how good they had it
    by the Hungarians, how nice they were, and everything was good.
    So everybody was happy, naturally,
    that we are going to have it good.
    So 1939 was pretty good.
    In 1940, everything went smooth.
    Everybody had their businesses.
    Everybody could do what they wanted to do.
    People were traveling to Budapest,
    and Budapest was free to go because before we
    couldn't go there.
    It was under the Hungarians.
    Once it opened, up everybody could go.
    And a lot of young people went up to Budapest
    to seek jobs and anything, do business and everything.
    My sister used to travel a lot to Budapest
    because she did some kind of business
    to going back and forth in 1940, 1941 in the beginning.
    And then in 1941, all of a sudden,
    we heard that Jews are being taken away from their homes.
    They're sending them to Poland.
    Jewish people who's grandparents, grandfather
    or great-grandfather were born in Poland,
    they're going to deport him.
    That was already 1940, end of '41.
    And 1942, the same things were happening.
    We heard Jewish people are going to be sent away.
    And everybody was already a little scared.
    My brother, my oldest brother, he was taken away.
    He was married.
    He had a little--
    his wife was pregnant yet.
    He was taken away to the camps, to the labor camps in 1941
    in November or October.
    Didn't pass along, maybe two months,
    and we received a notice that he disappeared,
    and we never heard from him since.
    Then it came in 1942 in beginning-- middle of '42,
    my brother, my younger brother, Aaron, also got a notice.
    He had to go to the labor camps.
    I'll never forget that day when he was called in.
    I was crying.
    I was walking around the streets, the house, every time,
    and every corner crying.
    I didn't want my brother to go away because we already
    knew what was going on.
    Since he left in '42, my mother took a vow,
    said she's going to fast once a week.
    She was fasting every day since my brother was taken away.
    And then--
    Since Aaron was taken.
    Aaron was taken away.
    Right.
    He was the second brother.
    And then we didn't hear from him for a while.
    And then after quite a-- how many--
    I don't how long it took, we finally
    got from him a greeting card from Kamianets-Podilskyi.
    And he wrote in the card that he met some people who were taking
    away-- from our neighboring town--
    who were taken away by the Germans to Poland.
    And he-- I mean, he couldn't write too much,
    but he wrote in Jewish words like, I
    met this and this from home.
    Once he wrote that, then the second time,
    he wrote the same thing.
    He met somebody else.
    We really didn't know how bad it was.
    So on the third card he wrote, please
    try to do anything you can not to be sent away from the home.
    So already we knew it was troubles.
    My sister used to write to Budapest a few times a year.
    In 1942 whenever she went the trains
    she saw the Hungarian soldier--
    Hungarian gendarmes, police.
    They used to always look for Jews on the trains.
    Every time, everybody had to have a--
    we called it-- a pass not to--
    identification card.
    Everybody who had traveled had to have identification card.
    Without that you couldn't travel.
    And whatever-- my sister didn't take one
    because she knew she was Jewish, and if they find out she's
    Jewish, there'll be problems.
    So once the Gentiles came over to her and said,
    lady, let's see your identification card.
    She said, gee.
    She made believe she looked in the pocketbook.
    I'm sorry.
    I forgot my identification card.
    So he said to her, she didn't look Jewish.
    She always looked like non-Jewish.
    She always used to sit next to Gentile people,
    and she talked to him in good Hungarian.
    So he said to her, lady, next time make sure
    you have an identification card with you
    because don't you see, we are looking for all the Jews.
    We're taking the Jews away.
    If you don't want to have problems,
    don't travel without identification cards.
    So she says, thank you, officer.
    Next time I will know what to do.
    Every place.
    She said they were so mean.
    They used to find wherever special Jews with beards.
    Whenever they saw a Jew with a beard,
    they used to kick him down from the trains
    and take him to the station house.
    Were these regular soldiers or were they special forces?
    Special.
    The gendarmes.
    I don't know if you know what the gendarmes--
    the Hungarian gendarme.
    They wore the big boots and with the hats--
    the feathers in their hats.
    They were the meanest people around.
    They-- I can describe.
    I think about them now, it makes me very sick.
    So they used to take all the Jews because the Jews were
    sent already anyway.
    If anybody didn't have a birth certificate,
    they were born whatever-- not in Poland--
    they took everybody away.
    So we knew already.
    We were already-- in '42 they were already rumors
    that they're going to take us away too.
    So my mother was born in a different city, next--
    Berehove.
    It was quite away from Okruhlá.
    So my sister one day, she picked herself up
    and went to Berehove to look for my mother's birth certificate.
    And she-- it was a hard time, but she finally got it.
    I don't know it would have helped or not,
    but to make sure that she can show
    that she wasn't born in Poland.
    She came home after two days with the birth certificate,
    and so make sure everybody-- we because we were born
    in Okruhlá.
    We all had birth certificates from the next town.
    So one of my aunts, she didn't have a birth certificate
    either, so my sister did the same thing.
    She went to my aunt's city where she was born and got
    her a birth certificate.
    But I don't think that helped.
    That didn't help much because we heard already
    like in weeks they're going to take us away.
    We have to be ready and packed.
    They're going to take us away too.
    My brother-in-law, my sister's husband,
    was taken away also in '42, after my brother,
    to the labor camps.
    My sister tried anything to get them back home, because they
    said, if he has all the parents, and he has no-- because he
    had two brothers who were taken away
    to the Hungarian army in 1940, and they
    disappeared right away.
    And if he has nobody--
    the parents have nobody to take care of them,
    my brother-in-law would be let free.
    So my sisters tried everything to get him back home.
    So they said, it wouldn't help her
    if she gets him back home because all the Jews are
    going to be taken away anyhow.
    So she had two little kids, naturally
    it was very difficult for her.
    That was in '42.
    Yes.
    So by the end of '42, we used to get cards, greeting cards,
    that were like twice a month for my brother.
    And it came like end of '42, the cards stopped coming around.
    We didn't get a card one month.
    We didn't get a card another month.
    We didn't get nothing.
    We didn't hear from my brother at all anymore.
    So my mother, of course, she was very emotional, very upset
    about it, that she didn't hear from-- one brother
    disappeared, my other brother, we don't know where he is.
    He disappeared all of a sudden.
    We don't hear from him.
    So she started to fast--
    that was really heartbreaking-- twice a week.
    On Monday all day and Thursday all day.
    She thought this will help bring her sons home.
    But unfortunately, that didn't help us either.
    Going back, when the Hungarians took over,
    the school became Hungarian teaching.
    They sent a young woman from Budapest
    to teach in school Hungarian.
    And she used to stay in our house.
    When she saw what the problem was going on,
    she knew everything what was going on
    because she got letters from home,
    what they're doing to the Jews.
    She knew everything, but she didn't tell us really.
    So and it came--
    like in '43 she left out of town.
    She went back home because she couldn't take it.
    In '42.
    That was in '42 already, no Jewish kids
    were allowed already in the schools.
    They didn't take any Jewish kids to the school.
    End of '42.
    Then it came in '43, all the Jewish people who were
    professionals were taken away.
    Government jobs were taken away.
    Big businesses were taken away.
    Nobody could have their professions, holding it.
    Our health spa, what we had, a bathing resort,
    that was taken away the first, and gave it
    to someone Hungarian people.
    I don't know to who.
    Then beginning of '43, the Hungarian gendarmes
    used to come around.
    They didn't live in our town.
    They lived in the next neighboring town.
    They used to come around, mostly every day, to look around,
    what's happening in town.
    They used to check everybody, check, come to the homes.
    They were very mean.
    In '43 already, no Jewish person could walk out of the house
    without a yellow band--
    yellow star on their arms.
    Everybody had to wear yellow stars.
    My little brother, he was 15, and I
    had two other little cousins.
    One was also 15, and one was 16.
    And '42 already, they had to march the street every day
    a couple hours, like laborer, work.
    They had to have the broom in that hands.
    In one hand-- the broom in hand.
    They had to have a shovel.
    And they were marching through the whole town with that shovel
    and their broom.
    And then they had to sweep up the streets.
    Every day, the same thing for weeks was going on.
    He used to come home.
    Poor kid, always crying to my mother
    that the kids are making fun of him.
    The kids are throwing stones after them.
    They're calling them "dirty Jews" and all kinds of things.
    And my mother used to cry with him.
    And we all cried with him.
    There's nothing we could do.
    So she said to him, it wouldn't take too long.
    Soon the war will be over.
    The Russians will come in.
    We're on the way for the Russians to take over.
    After that already, 1943, '43, they were talking,
    the Russians are going to come in,
    and everything will be fine.
    But that time already, they made a stop
    to take the Jews away to Poland, like we
    were supposed to be taken away.
    It came a new order out to stop to take the Jews away.
    We had a little grocery store.
    We didn't have too long them.
    '43 already, that was taken away from us, the grocery store.
    My mother's best friend took it away from us.
    She said they came around one day.
    They said the stores will be taken away
    from the Jews anyhow.
    I might as well have it.
    So they just took it away without nothing, no questions.
    My mother had to hand over the key, and that was it.
    We couldn't even get a penny out of them.
    Nothing.
    I remember, like today, we used to have an old sewing
    machine in the house.
    My mother used to make all our things.
    I picked up a little bit of the sewing in 1940.
    And I tried to make some little dresses for my sister's two
    little children.
    One was 6 and one was four.
    I remember like today, I tried on those little dresses
    on those little kids.
    And all of a sudden, somebody comes knocking on the door.
    Two gendarmes-- that was police--
    came into the house.
    When I saw them, I almost fainted.
    Because when I used to see them from the way,
    I used run home and hide.
    I was so afraid of them because they were so mean.
    They were worse than the Germans.
    So they came in, and they saw the two little kids there.
    And I was already shivering like a leaf
    because I was very scared of them.
    I was like, I don't know, panicked.
    So they asked-- my sister was in the house.
    So they asked me, whose kids are those.
    I couldn't answer them, so my sister came over.
    She said, that's my sister's children.
    So he said, this sewing machine has to go.
    You cannot use it anymore.
    So my sister said, how come?
    Why not?
    He says, that's an order.
    In one hour's time this machine has to be out of the house.
    They had a place where they used to come and take things
    away from the Jews, everything like machinery or anything
    useful.
    They collected-- they had like a warehouse in some place there,
    the sheriff's.
    They called it the sheriff's yard.
    They had a big warehouse.
    And whatever they could, they took away from the Jews.
    Whatever they found, anything useful.
    We could have nothing no more.
    And that was bothering me so when they--
    I said, it's an old machine.
    My mother used to use it.
    We're not making money with this machine.
    I'm just using it for my own purpose.
    He said, no, it has to be taken out.
    So in an hour's time, the machine was gone.
    He couldn't use it anymore.
    That was really bothering me an awful a lot
    because I said to my sister, how come they're so mean?
    What is it?
    Why do they do that to us?
    Were they doing anything with that machinery?
    Were they using it?
    No.
    They just-- I don't know what they did.
    They took it in the warehouse, and they collected everything,
    whatever they found by the Jews, they
    collected in the warehouse.
    They took away-- people shouldn't-- the Jewish people
    shouldn't be able to use nothing.
    Whatever we had, anybody had, embroideries,
    or a lot of beddings, or silverware, anything
    was collected.
    They had that whole collection of it.
    The business was taken away.
    Everything was taken and after that already.
    We had nothing, no more left.
    So my mother, remember, my mother
    once we had to do some shopping, we had nothing.
    We were running out of food in the house, flour
    to make the bread.
    How much can you prepare?
    We used to prepare some because we knew already they're
    going to take the store away.
    So at nights we used to bring home flour, some sugar,
    some things like that.
    We were hiding it.
    But when we ran out, my mother went to the people
    where they took our store away ask them to sell us some flour.
    They said, they cannot sell nothing to the Jewish people.
    My mother couldn't understand.
    She says, I pay you for it.
    Why not?
    She said, we have an order not to sell nothing to the Jews.
    So we couldn't even buy nothing for money.
    We had little kids, my sisters little children.
    They were hungry.
    They were crying.
    They wanted bread to eat.
    They wanted something to eat.
    We had nothing.
    We couldn't give them anything.
    So my uncle-- I had an uncle.
    He had a lot of flour hidden.
    And he had a Russian man he was very friendly
    with, he was good to him.
    So he used to buy him stuff and bring it to him.
    So my uncles gave to us.
    That's how we survived.
    That's how we got the flour for the kids to bake bread.
    We had to figure out how much bread we
    could eat every day, how much to give to the kids,
    and it was like on the tickets.
    And we couldn't have anything.
    Rationing.
    Rationing.
    Rationing.
    Yes.
    Everything was rationed.
    It was really-- it was not a nice--
    it was not a nice picture.
    So I was very scared.
    I heard already my uncle used to come to our house
    and talk to my mother, what's going on.
    They were going to take the Jewish people away.
    They're going to deport the people.
    They going to-- already the people
    knew already what was going on, but we didn't believe it.
    Where was your uncle at this time?
    He also lived in Okruhlá.
    My father has four brothers.
    They all lived in the same town.
    And we all lived like a few houses away.
    So he used to come and talk to my mother,
    tell my mother always what was going on because he
    knew what was going on.
    He got the details from the other man.
    And I was very scared.
    I was mostly frightened from being taken away from home.
    I always said to my mother, I don't want
    to be taken away from home.
    I don't want to be taken away from the Germans.
    I just cried.
    I was really-- I was--
    I don't know why, but I was very afraid.
    And my mother had a lady friend.
    She used to help her our when we were
    little children, especially when I was born,
    she helped my mother out.
    And she was helping us on the Sabbath
    to do the Shabbat chores.
    And she told my mother--
    I remember she told my mother--
    she's willing to hide me.
    If I want to be hidden, she will hide me in her barn attic,
    if something happens.
    So my mother always said to me, if you
    don't want-- if something happens, you go to this lady.
    She will hide you.
    But I didn't--
    I didn't-- nothing happened so far, so I didn't say nothing.
    But in 19-- my best girlfriend already,
    with the Gentile girls, she used to be in our house,
    eat in our house, sleep in our house.
    We were like sisters.
    She already didn't talk to me.
    She already ignored me.
    And that was bothering me.
    I said, what did I do to her?
    Why she so cold to me?
    How come she doesn't want to talk to me?
    But there's nothing I was able to do.
    So end of '43, already the winter, we had nobody.
    No man was at home, only my younger brother, 15-year-old.
    I remember those winter nights in '43.
    We didn't have enough wood to heat
    the house because we had those stoves heating with the wood.
    We didn't have enough wood.
    We didn't have enough food.
    We didn't have a lot of things.
    We couldn't buy nothing.
    The house was always so sad, so empty looking.
    Desolate.
    Very frightening.
    And my uncle used to come and talk to my mother.
    They used to discuss things.
    And I used to listen all the time.
    And whenever I heard them discussing the Jews being taken
    away, I was very frightened.
    I always used to cry.
    And I always--
    I don't know why I was so afraid.
    It was just one of those things.
    So it was after that long winter, cold winter nights,
    it started '43 after, '43 December, January '44 already.
    It was tough already.
    It's all they were talking.
    They're going to take the Jews away.
    The Jews are going to be taken away.
    It was the month of April before Passover.
    We did our Passover cleaning, everything, made kosher.
    Everything was done around the house, whatever we used to do.
    And of course, we had to have the chickens slaughtered
    because that's all the meat we had.
    He had no meat, no other meat.
    We had some chickens.
    And the slaughterer lived in the next town, [PLACE NAME]..
    We didn't have a slaughterer in our town.
    It was forbidden already for Jewish people
    to slaughter the meat.
    We couldn't do it anymore.
    The Jewish people were not supposed
    to gather for services.
    Everything was stopped.
    So how are we going to have meat for Passover, for the Seders?
    We needed something to eat, some kind of slaughtering done.
    Otherwise we had nothing to eat.
    So my uncle paid off somebody, some Russian man,
    to go bring the slaughterer, shoykhet
    was in Jewish, to bring him out to do
    the slaughtering for a few Jewish families,
    and take him back.
    He was very scared to come out because his knife was already
    taken away, but he had a knife hidden,
    another knife, an extra one.
    So they brought him out, middle of the night,
    and he did all the slaughtering for the few Jewish families,
    and they took him back.
    That's how we had meat, chickens for the Passover soup.
    We did all what we had to do.
    It came already before Pes--
    the Seders?
    To prepare.
    There was nobody home, only my little brother.
    He was the only man in the house to do this,
    to conduct the seder.
    But nobody already had a desire to do anything.
    It was so depressing, was very depressing.
    The house was so dark looking, empty looking.
    Nobody was around anymore.
    We already knew.
    We heard already that they're taking
    the Jewish people in the different vicinities
    around our area.
    We were the last ones, I suppose,
    because we were hidden on the end of the road.
    So my brother that night was conducting the service.
    We were sitting around the table.
    I never forget, my mother was crying and crying.
    And she was the only one praying,
    who was doing the praying, and we just listened.
    We were just listening, somebody shouldn't
    come knocking on our door.
    We always imagined somebody stuck in the--
    we were already afraid.
    When came to eat the meals, the little kids were hungry.
    They ate something.
    Nobody wanted to eat anymore.
    Nobody cared for the meals.
    Nobody wanted to do nothing because things were bad
    already.
    Finally we cleaned up the table.
    Nobody wanted to.
    My mother was sitting and praying and crying.
    When we saw her crying, we all started to cry.
    Finally the night, we couldn't go to sleep.
    We were afraid somebody's going to knock on our door.
    But after midnight we went, we laid down, went to sleep.
    And the next following day, nobody went to services.
    There was no service.
    Nobody left but a few old men in town and the young kids,
    only my four uncles and a few cousins.
    The next Seder, we didn't even do anything anymore
    because we heard already that the Germans are
    taking the Jews to the ghettos, already
    from the cities and the towns around us--
    were already taken away.
    Still, my mother said, eh, nothing is going to happen.
    God will watch over us.
    Nothing is going to happen.
    So what's very depressing though, the second day,
    there was no Seder.
    No nothing.
    We didn't do nothing.
    The Passover was really just passing
    by like we would have been in a jail,
    like very, very tight, very frightening.
    Came the last day of Passover.
    So my uncle, Chaim, that was the one.
    He invited the families to his house
    for the last day of prayers.
    He said, maybe this will help.
    So everybody came to his house the last day of Passover
    for the last day of prayers.
    And he had that Russian man who he paid off to watch.
    The man was watching out for the police
    not to arrive to town, because if the police arrives,
    he catches the Jews praying, they had to separate.
    They had to disappear, to run away.
    So we all got to Uncle Chaim's house.
    He invited us to have the meals with him
    and to stay in his house for the morning.
    I will never forget when those few man were praying,
    they prayed with such emotions, with such cries.
    I never heard men crying before like that.
    They just-- the house was trembling.
    They were crying.
    They put all the [? tallis ?] on their heads,
    covering up their whole bodies.
    And it was heavy breathings and crying.
    Naturally, we all started to cry.
    And all of a sudden, a young man came
    bursting into the house from the neighboring town.
    The Jews sent him out.
    The Germans are here they taking all the Jews in the ghettos.
    Everybody should go and hide in the woods,
    wherever you can because the Germans are already
    collecting everybody.
    My mother got white like a sheet.
    She passed out.
    So my aunt took some water and dumped it on her,
    so she came back to herself.
    So we all started to cry.
    Everybody got nervous.
    What can we do?
    So my mother, when she came back to herself,
    she said, no, Chaim, I'm not going to hide.
    If God wants the Germans to take the Jews away,
    I'm not going to hide.
    So Uncle Chaim started begging her and asking her, please,
    do what I tell you.
    Go home.
    Everybody pack things up.
    Take warm clothes.
    It was like in the early-- it was in April.
    It was cold out yet.
    Pack things for the children.
    Pack things for everybody.
    Take the food, whatever food you can.
    And we'll go hide in the woods.
    So we started crying.
    We don't know where to go.
    So he said, you're going to go with me, with my family.
    We should meet with him later in the afternoon, up on the hill.
    We used to live in back of a hill.
    We had a big garden going up to the hill,
    and the hill-- and the woods were right back up the hill.
    So she said meet us this and this time.
    It was in the late afternoon.
    So we went home and we started packing whatever food
    we had cooked, for the kids warm clothes,
    and we took our coats put on us, and told my sister--
    my sister was home with her little children--
    to come and to pack for the children clothes.
    And I had a sister-in-law, too.
    She was living in our house next to us with a little boy.
    He was two and a half years old.
    My brother, that was my brother's little boy.
    The baby was born after my brother was taken away
    to a labor camp.
    He never saw his little boy, and the little boy never
    knew his father.
    We started packing.
    We started to take the remaining mattress, took a white sheet.
    We packed up the mattress and the sheet,
    and whatever cooked food.
    We took some water in a jar for the kids,
    and some milk, whatever we had.
    Not much.
    And we were supposed to walk up the hill to meet Uncle Chaim.
    So how do you go up?
    Somebody will see us.
    The neighbors-- we had a neighbor next door to us.
    So we decided, my sister and my sister-in-law
    with her little kids, should walk up first, the garden,
    and walk up to the hill and wait for us,
    and then the rest of us.
    It was only my mother and my sister
    and me and my little brother.
    Because the rest of us weren't around anymore.
    We will meet, and then we will follow them.
    So the neighbors shouldn't see.
    Because if somebody would have seen us going up,
    they would have squealed, and we would
    have been gone already then.
    So that's what we did.
    We closed up the house.
    We took our things.
    And my sister went up first with the children, my sister-in-law.
    And my uncle was there, and then we followed them.
    We left a little light in the house.
    The kerosene lamp was burning.
    We left a little lights so the people shouldn't
    see the house is empty.
    Then we all followed up, and we went up to the woods.
    And there was that Russian man with my Uncle Chaim.
    He led us into the woods where to hide.
    And he made up with my uncle that he
    will come the following day and let us
    know what's going on in town.
    If the Germans came already for the Jews, or what's going on?
    So we went into the deep woods.
    By the time we got there, it was already dark outside,
    but we still could see because the moon was out and shining
    the big tall trees, so we could see a little light
    through the trees coming through.
    The children were crying.
    They were scared.
    They were frightened.
    They started to ask their mother,
    why do we have to hide in the woods?
    Why can't we stay home?
    So the mother had to explain to them why.
    So we finally settled ourselves down under a big tree there.
    It was already dark, but it was so frightening.
    It was so spooky.
    It was so-- we heard animals howling,
    and we heard, like, shooting from far away.
    It was the worst experience.
    I never hid in the woods before.
    Were there other people who hiding--
    Only my uncle and us, the two families.
    But they used to say-- they were talking that people are hiding
    in woods, and the Germans are looking for them already,
    and that Germans are looking in the woods
    because people were running away.
    But our family was only my family and my uncle.
    I don't know where the rest went.
    Everybody went someplace else.
    So that night was very frightening.
    Finally, the children were crying.
    My sister begged them not to cry because we
    had to be very quiet.
    Nobody should hear us.
    If somebody would hear us, find us,
    they would come and kill us right away.
    So my sister took the children.
    She put a blanket over, she put a pillow down.
    We took some pillows along, and she put them to sleep.
    But who could sleep?
    We couldn't sleep.
    We were sitting there all night and listening to footsteps.
    You always imagine somebody's coming.
    Somebody's following us.
    So that night was the longest night of my life.
    We couldn't go to sleep.
    Our Uncle Chaim said, go to sleep.
    I will watch out.
    So my mother was sitting there and praying.
    She was praying all night long, without--
    just praying.
    Without that she couldn't see in the dark.
    We couldn't have any light.
    And we were all crying and crying.
    And finally I guess we just dozed off a little.
    He was watching us, Uncle Chaim.
    We couldn't wait for the morning to arrive.
    The morning came.
    Finally, we saw the lights peeking through--
    the sun peeking through the big tall trees.
    We were glad the night was over and we were still alive.
    Nobody found us.
    So Uncle Chaim was supposed to go that afternoon
    to meet in a certain area.
    They gave like-- they made up signals, what sound he will--
    to recognize one another.
    And my uncle went out and met with the man
    when the man came to tell them what's going on.
    We were so scared to be left alone.
    We were frightened.
    We said, if somebody catches us and Uncle Chaim is not there,
    if they catch us, they'll kill us.
    And God knows if they don't catch him on the way, walking--
    Every minute seemed like hours.
    Finally, he came back that afternoon.
    He said nothing happened in town.
    Nobody came yet for us.
    We stayed out for three days and three nights and the woods.
    That man came and brought us some milk for the kids
    and hard-boiled eggs and bread.
    He used to bring butter for us to eat.
    The third day Uncle Chaim met with him again.
    He said, they didn't come yet.
    So we decided better to go back home.
    What's going to be-- how long can we wait?
    We didn't know what's going to be.
    How long can we stay in the woods?
    Children were crying.
    We were crying.
    It was terrible.
    It was raining and lightning one night and thundering.
    And we were sitting under the big trees.
    It was very scary.
    So the third day we decided to go back home.
    That was on a Wednesday.
    We got back home.
    Nothing happened in [INAUDIBLE] yet,
    but we were waiting every minute, every day.
    The following day somebody came to tell us we have to get ready
    and pack because we are going to be taken away,
    like the following day, like on a Friday.
    They're going to take us away to ghettos.
    So we should pack all things, pack up everything.
    We should take as much as we can, food and clothes.
    Whatever we can, we should take with ourselves.
    Before that we were already hiding the good things
    because we heard what's going on.
    We hid a lot of better clothes, and a lot of materials
    my sister had, she hid away with the neighbors.
    And certain items, what we wanted to protect,
    we figured we'd come back, we will have something.
    That Thursday night my mother prepared--
    I remembered-- the dough for the baking the bread for Friday
    morning during the morning.
    She got up very early to bake some bread to take with us.
    I remember the bread was still in the oven.
    Two gendarmes, the Hungarian police, came in that morning.
    In two hours we have to be ready and packed.
    They're going to take us away.
    So we've already packed most of the things because the day
    before we heard already.
    So naturally, we took-- the bread was still in the oven.
    My mother took the bread out from the oven.
    It was hot yet.
    We packed all the bread.
    We had a sack, flour sacks.
    We put all the bread, and we packed all the food,
    and we took everything possible, whatever we could.
    Bedding and clothing, whatever we could drag along
    to take with us, because they said we
    will need everything wherever we go.
    So two hours later, we were already packed.
    Two gendarmes came.
    They allowed-- one of my uncles had a horse and buggy.
    So they allowed my uncle to take the horse and buggy
    and to pack all the stuff, all the clothing and all the food
    on his buggy, to take it with us.
    We were taken-- we had to be outside, like, 12 o'clock.
    Everybody gathered to the same--
    all the Jews in town.
    There were nine families.
    And who was left already?
    Only the older people and the young kids.
    We gathered right in front of the church.
    The church was across of our house.
    We gathered all there.
    All our neighbors were standing-- the Gentile people--
    standing outside on their porches
    and watching us being taken away.
    Nobody said nothing.
    My best girlfriend was standing with her mother on the porch,
    and I was outside.
    I was across from her house because they lived
    across the street from us.
    And I remember waving to her.
    It was like nothing happened.
    It was bothering me.
    I said, my god, she's my best girlfriend, and I waved to her,
    and she doesn't even wave back.
    It was bothering me.
    There's nothing I can do.
    So we started walking out of the village.
    We walked from the village, from our village.
    Only a few older people were sitting on the wagon,
    and all the things we carried.
    We carried a lot of things in our hands too.
    We got to the ghetto in Czestochowa.
    They had a ghetto made.
    They sectioned off one of the streets.
    We got there.
    We were pushed in in one little room, a lot of families.
    I don't know how many we were.
    Everybody had to take a little corner
    to sit down on the floor with the children.
    And we used to use the food, whatever we brought from home.
    And the people who lived in the house, they had some things.
    It was like a--
    I don't know.
    It was a Jewish neighborhood or something.
    Just one big street was closed off.
    Pearl, we're going to have to pause at this point.
    Yeah.
    We will continue in a few moments.
    We have to change the tape.
    Thank you.
    This is a good point to do it in.
    We continue our interview with Pearl Gruenberg.
    Mrs. Gruenberg, you were talking about the place
    where you lived in the ghetto.
    Would you continue--
    Yes--
    With that?
    We lived, like I said, in one room,
    a lot of families together.
    We all slept in the little corner
    with the little children, everybody
    together on little corner.
    We didn't go out from the alley was the ghetto--
    the house was like in an alleyway.
    We always just stayed inside in the alley.
    The food, we used whatever we brought from home.
    My uncle Chayyim.
    He's the only one who used to go out
    and trade things for whatever we did and had,
    he brought from outside and other people.
    He did trading things.
    Excuse me.
    It was not a pleasant sight.
    We were running out of a lot of things.
    The bread was tare.
    We had to take the bread and make like dry bread sticks,
    [NON-ENGLISH].
    Everybody was doing that.
    And we knew that they were going to take us away, so we should
    have things on the roads.
    We stayed there for four weeks in that ghetto.
    The only thing we could do-- sit and pray.
    We sat on the floor.
    My mother-- I mean her--
    I never forget, because that's all she was doing--
    sitting and praying, day and night.
    She was crying her eyes out.
    She was only crying for her children.
    She was mostly worried with her children.
    I forgot to say, before they took us away from the house,
    she still wanted me to hide and the lady's attic where
    she told me she will hide me.
    And I said mother, if everybody is going, I want to go too.
    I didn't want to hide.
    That's how I went with them together.
    I said, whatever will happen with everybody
    will happen with me.
    So they are in the ghetto, she was very upset about me,
    because I was always sitting next to her
    and crying constantly.
    I saw her crying, I cried too.
    My uncle used to go out every day.
    He listened to the news, hear what's going on in the ghetto.
    Every day he used to come in and tell us the stories.
    The Russians are near by.
    The Russians are near by.
    Any day the Russians will take us over,
    and everything will be OK.
    That was going for four weeks, and the Russians never came.
    We just stayed in there.
    And the ghetto was packed with people.
    It was like one, I don't know, section closed off.
    It was the people brought from all the communities from all
    around Tésco, all the little towns.
    Must have been thousands of people there.
    After four weeks, one day came, they said, we have to pick up.
    We are going to be taken away to the labor camps.
    We really didn't know where they're going to take us.
    But they said and what they were doing is two different things.
    So the day before everybody packed up,
    everybody took whatever we had, everybody
    tried to take everything with.
    After all, we'll need it.
    We're going to work.
    We need all the clothes, all those things, whatever we had.
    We tried to pack everything up.
    We packed up.
    And the following day, came an order, the Hungarian gendarmes
    on the loudspeakers outside, were calling out all the Jews
    in the ghetto to gather outside in front of your houses
    and take everything with you, whatever you brought
    from home, because we are going to go take you
    to working camps.
    Naturally, everybody packed and went outside.
    The street was black from--
    you couldn't see one person from another
    because it was so crowded.
    It was so packed with people.
    It was like a big shadow over the whole street.
    The kids, was little kids or mothers with little children,
    with little babies under arms, next to them.
    But they didn't know what to do with those children,
    because it was difficult in those big crowds
    to hold the bundles, to hold the children.
    And it was unbelievable.
    Everybody was outside from the houses.
    They ran and checked all the homes before they went,
    checked nobody should stay behind.
    All the soldiers, the Hungarians,
    when everybody was outside, we started walking.
    We didn't know where they're taking us.
    We couldn't walk.
    Everybody stepped on one another.
    The children were crying.
    People stepped on the kids.
    They were dragging.
    They had to hold them, my sister's two little girls.
    They had to hold on to her skirt.
    And she was having the bundles.
    And my sister took her tied up clothes and a sheet,
    and she put on the little girl's shoulders
    they should carry something too.
    We walked for a while.
    And they took us into a big huge,
    like in a warehouse in the cellar.
    We had to walk down steps.
    It was a huge building.
    And everybody was told to go down to this basement.
    We walked into that basement.
    It was like in the afternoon, late in the afternoon.
    I don't know what date it was.
    It was the beginning of--
    was already at the end of May, May, something like that.
    May, end of May, it's end of May,
    May 20, something like that.
    We walked down that basement.
    And people was-- it was thousands of people.
    We didn't know how to get in there.
    It was steps, high steps.
    And everybody was pushing and pulling.
    And then the gendarmes were hitting everybody.
    Whoever walked down, and he just kept on pushing everybody.
    We walked in there.
    The cellar was up to the [? stairs ?] with water.
    The kids were crying.
    There was benches across the wall, wooden benches.
    I don't know what it was.
    It must have been like a warehouse or something.
    And all the people, most of the people and the little kids
    tried to sit down on the benches.
    We let the babies, to hold the babies, all the mothers,
    all the grandmothers are holding the babies.
    It was no room to stand around even with the bundles
    and with everything.
    It was like a nightmare in there.
    We didn't know how come they brought us here.
    What's going to be here?
    We were sure they took us in there to get rid of us,
    to kill everybody, because it was not normal, was not human.
    And people were crying.
    People were carrying on.
    There was people, older people, younger people, babies,
    children, everything, just all the people or young kids,
    there was only older man.
    There was no young men, only young kids.
    Everybody carried on.
    If somebody asked one of the gendarmes,
    I remember ask him if they wanted to go to the bathroom,
    they started laughing at the person and kicking the person.
    Look at the Jews.
    You want to go to the bathroom.
    So what did we have to do?
    We had to go in a corner wherever we find the place
    and to go there.
    We were sitting there all night in that basement.
    The kids were hungry.
    The kids were thirsty.
    The kids, we had to--
    they had some water and gave to the kids.
    We didn't know what to expect.
    It was really unbelievable.
    There was itself like hell in there.
    Was there any light there?
    Was there any--
    A little, very dim light.
    It was little windows, tiny little windows
    around with the bars around, tiny little windows.
    In the one end, there's only where we walked down the steps.
    Was very dim lights, yes.
    And the gendarmes, the police, were standing around.
    They're outside of the hall, outside of the basement,
    outside and inside.
    And they were walking around and hitting the Jews
    with a beater special, whatever--
    they said, they pulled Jews, they were sitting.
    They had no room to sit.
    We were standing, like leaning against one
    another with the bundles.
    And I remember, I was so tired.
    I felt like I was passing out.
    My mother was sitting down, holding my sister's children.
    And they were sitting on top of one another,
    because was only the benches across.
    So my mother begged me to come and sit down a little bit,
    because I couldn't stand up.
    I was worn out.
    So she said, come, I'll get up and you sit down.
    I said, no, Ma, I'm not going to let you stand up.
    You sit.
    And I had the bundles in my hand.
    And I was leaning against my sisters.
    And I put the--
    like the bundles were on the floor.
    And I just sat down between the whole crowd and the bundles.
    And I was sitting there for a while.
    And we didn't know what to expect.
    The gendarmes took some women, and they started searching them
    for gold and diamonds.
    They was searching them around to find some--
    if they found something, they took away.
    I remembered an older man.
    The basement was very long with so many thousands of people.
    But an older man was sitting there and crying.
    He wanted to go out to the bathroom.
    He asked the gendarme if he could
    go outside to the bathroom.
    Gendarme took and pushed him right down
    in the water, because in the middle of the cellar was water.
    We were standing in the water.
    So he pushed him right, look at the Jew.
    He wants to go-- he took him with the boots
    and just kicked him down to the water.
    The poor man couldn't even get up.
    He was crying for help.
    Nobody could help him.
    You couldn't do nothing.
    Everybody was handicapped.
    Everybody was afraid.
    I don't even know what happened to him.
    We were sitting there in wet, damp basement all night long.
    We got the chills.
    Kids started coughing.
    I had the chills.
    I remember I was shivering and shaking.
    My sister took out some kind of blankets and the bundle.
    And she gave it to me to wrap me.
    So we were sitting there all night.
    We didn't know what to expect.
    So everybody said, I think this is going to be it.
    They wouldn't bring us in a place like that
    if they wanted to save us.
    We thought they will be blowing up.
    It looked this the place is going to be just go in flames.
    So we sat there all night.
    And everybody was crying and crying and carrying on
    and praying to God.
    But I think God wasn't there.
    I don't know.
    Didn't listen to the people.
    Nobody tried physically to get out.
    You couldn't, because the gendarmes
    were standing there right by the steps with the big guns.
    And you couldn't do nothing.
    Everybody was handicapped.
    If somebody wanted to go, they pushed him.
    You couldn't do nothing.
    And outside there was guards outside the building.
    Nobody could get outside.
    Finally, the morning, the night was over.
    It started to get light outside.
    Everybody was glad.
    The night is over.
    Nothing happened.
    They didn't kill us.
    The night is over.
    The morning, as soon as it gets a little light,
    they started calling on the loudspeakers.
    Everybody picked their things up.
    We're going to leave.
    So naturally people were glad.
    You were glad you were getting out of that wet basement.
    We didn't get killed.
    The basement itself was hell.
    So by the time people started walking out,
    they couldn't walk.
    People was numb from sitting on the floor in the water,
    because there was no room for everybody
    to sit around on the benches with all the people.
    They couldn't get up from the floors.
    They were a few people who couldn't get up.
    They just were dragging himself.
    And the gendarmes went.
    They saw they couldn't get up. he took them and pulled them,
    pulled them up and threw them back to the ground,
    to the water again.
    I don't even know what happened, if they ever made it out.
    So we started walking up.
    The steps of our high steps, wooden steps.
    They started pushing everybody, pushing quick out.
    The little kids, people, the little kids, it was really--
    it was horrible.
    They tried screaming at everybody to go faster
    and to walk faster.
    And if anybody couldn't walk fast,
    they just dragged them, pushed them back down.
    And they had to get out.
    There was no way.
    But the time we got out--
    was so many people, I don't even know
    how everybody got out of there.
    By the time we walked out--
    we tried to stick together, I mean my family.
    My mother always said, children, whatever
    was going to be, just try sticking together,
    try being together.
    So we tried to be together.
    And we walked out.
    We tried to walk up, walk outside together.
    We finally made it out.
    It was hell making it outside from the basement.
    And everybody was out already, this was the whole ghetto was--
    I don't know how many people, how many thousands of people
    there were.
    Finally made it out, we had to all wait around.
    And the street was jammed.
    We couldn't see from one person to the other person.
    It was like one big black cloud, the whole thing.
    We saw people walking.
    Then we didn't know what was-- we walked
    and followed everybody.
    And so people started walking.
    We walked after them.
    And my sister's little girls, that I will never forget--
    is still in my mind.
    I cannot forget those words from those kids.
    Those two little girls they were dragging their bundles.
    My sister tied around the neck with a sheet and put things
    to carry for them, because everybody had to carry.
    And the older one-- she was six years old--
    and she said to her mother when we were walking, she says,
    Mommy Dear, where are they taking us?
    What's going to be with us?
    She says, I cannot carry these bundles anymore.
    They're pulling me down to the floor.
    My sister started crying.
    She says, just a little bit longer.
    She says, just try to walk a little longer,
    and we'll be there soon, wherever we're going.
    Those words, I'll never forget, six-year-old to ask her mother.
    And that's still--
    I don't forget those things.
    It still remains in my mind.
    We walked and we walked and we walked.
    And the kids, I don't know how they made it,
    how they got to the place.
    Finally, we got to the--
    I saw people stopping already in front.
    People stopping.
    Everybody was stopping, stopping.
    I didn't know where we were, because you couldn't see,
    so many people, where we reached to.
    When it got less and less people,
    then we realized there was cattle trains waiting.
    We got to the station.
    There was cattle trains waiting for us.
    We saw already people going into the cattle trains.
    So then we saw the cattle trains.
    And we knew they were taking us someplace.
    We got into those cattle trains.
    We tried to be together, like my uncles and us
    and another few families, whoever we were in the ghetto
    with tried to stick together.
    It was six, seven families tried to stick together.
    We got into the-- they pushed us quick in the cattle trains.
    This was like a machine working so fast.
    And the steps were too high.
    You were tripping on everything when we walk up.
    But finally, we made it in.
    The gendarmes were hitting everybody and pushing everybody
    and screaming.
    They were the worst ones.
    If I think about it now, I get sick.
    Finally, we made it into the cattle trains.
    And each compartment-- everybody took a compartment.
    I mean, how many people, how many
    families in one compartment.
    We got in the compartment.
    Everybody took a little space for themselves.
    And we were just jammed together on the floor
    and the little kids and all--
    they closed-- right away, as soon as we got in,
    the doors were slammed from the cattle trains.
    It was done so fast that nobody could even
    think about anything.
    All of a sudden, we just saw ourselves
    with the slammed doors.
    They put iron bars outside on the doors.
    And there was only a tiny little window
    with iron bars across the window in those compartments.
    So we were sitting in-- we had nothing.
    We were sitting.
    We were all in the trains.
    It took a little while.
    The trains took off.
    We were riding.
    We were riding and riding.
    We were riding.
    And everybody was crying.
    They didn't know where we going in the trains.
    It was hot.
    No air, smelly.
    We had to go to the bathroom.
    We had no way to go.
    We had to take a pot out what we had and go right there.
    I remember I told my sister, I had to go to the bathroom.
    I told my sister I can't go.
    I said, how can I go in front of everybody?
    So she had to take a towel or something
    and hold in front of me so I should be able to go.
    We had to go right there.
    And we had to empty it between the doors,
    between where doors the joined.
    That's what we had to do.
    It was unbearable.
    It was hot.
    It was hot.
    It was the summer, the hottest summer.
    The kids were crying.
    They were tired.
    They were thirsty.
    They were hungry.
    They couldn't breathe.
    It was hell.
    We were riding already the third day without water,
    without nothing.
    Did you have a sense of time passing?
    Or were you able to measure hours--
    We could see it's night or day.
    That's all we could see--
    Just through the cracks--
    Yeah, the little window.
    We could see through the little window.
    My uncle used to look out through the little window
    and see what's going down.
    But the thing is the trains were riding only
    in fields, like between the fields
    and, let's say, we never passed a city or anything.
    There were side roads.
    All those trains were going on the side roads.
    My uncle used to look outside.
    He says, I don't see nothing.
    I only see empty field and empty road.
    Nothing, he couldn't see one town or one city passing by.
    They had it figured out.
    All the side roads so nobody could
    see where the Jews are taken.
    Every time, he used to look to, he says, I don't see nothing.
    Everything is just empty.
    Everything is just like ditches and like woods.
    Like there's nothing there.
    The third day-- we had only--
    the kids were drying up.
    We were all dry.
    I had--
    Dehydrated--
    Saliva-- we were dehydrated.
    We had nothing-- I had no saliva in my mouth already left.
    Finally, the third day, we saw the train was stopping,
    slowly stopping, stopping.
    We said, gee, maybe we're getting to the place
    where we were supposed to get out.
    It was slowing down.
    My uncle looked through that little window, and he says,
    I can't see.
    There's nothing here, only woods.
    So when the train finally stopped, everybody was shaking.
    We couldn't talk anymore.
    There was no air coming in from nowhere.
    All of a sudden--
    the train had stopped for a while--
    we heard the doors open.
    The doors opened and we saw the soldiers standing
    in front of the door in front of each compartment with water.
    The doors open.
    They had two soldiers, both with some pails of water.
    And everybody grabbed by the door,
    and everybody ran with their pots and took some water.
    That was the first day after the three days we got some water
    So we said, this doesn't look like we're
    going to get out here.
    There's nobody around here.
    You only see woods here.
    That's it.
    A few soldiers were giving us water.
    But everybody was very happy with the water.
    After all, after three days, finally we got some water.
    We could wet our mouths.
    Everybody started drinking down that water like was a--
    Champagne--
    Champagne or anything.
    So it took in seconds everybody to water
    and they slammed the door again.
    And there was again--
    we again left in the trains.
    So at least we had some water.
    In a way we were glad.
    He said, they would have left us out here, there's no--
    it's in the wilderness.
    So we were glad they didn't let us out in the wilderness.
    Soon the door slammed.
    The train started to taking off again.
    We were riding another two days--
    five days in those smelly hot cattle trains, without any air,
    without any nothing, only the once
    we when we got a little water.
    It was hell itself.
    We saw that it was good.
    Everybody was saying already--
    I heard Uncle Chayyim was talking to my mother there.
    he says, it doesn't look good.
    I don't know where they're taking us,
    but it doesn't look good.
    After the five days, everybody was stiff.
    We couldn't get up on the floors no more.
    Couldn't move.
    After the five days, finally we saw again
    the trains were stopping, slowing down, slowing down.
    And we said, that must be it.
    The trains are slowing down.
    And the trains slowed down.
    We heard noises outside, voices already.
    And my uncle looked through the little window.
    He said, gee, I see people outside.
    I see lots of people.
    I see people walking around.
    I see something is going on here.
    The train stopped.
    The doors opened.
    We arrived to Auschwitz.
    We didn't know it was Auschwitz.
    So they kept on yelling out, everybody take your belongings
    and walk out from the trains.
    So everybody got excited, nervous,
    screaming, grabbing the things what we took,
    starting, walking down the cattle trains.
    And we saw there people in front of us with striped clothes.
    We didn't know who they was or what they were,
    the man in the striped clothes.
    Soon as we walked down the trains,
    the men was separated right away.
    Like no time, they didn't take them too long.
    The men was separated.
    And my mother was with us.
    And we tried to stick together, my mother.
    So soon as we walked done, one of the guys
    in the striped clothes kept on saying to everybody,
    anybody with little children, if you have a mother,
    give the little kids to your mother.
    Of course, my sister had two little girls.
    And my sister-in-law had a little boy.
    So my sister took the kids.
    She didn't want to give the kids to nobody.
    So he said again--
    he grabbed the kids from her.
    And we were pulled on one side.
    And my mother was pulled on another side.
    And he grabbed the kids from my sister.
    He says, give your children to your mother.
    You will see them in a week's time.
    Your mother is going to watch your children.
    And my sister-in-law had nobody.
    So she went with her little boy.
    Never saw her again.
    And my sister insisted, no, she wants to go with her children.
    And that man insisted.
    He said, no, you go with your other sisters.
    You will see your mother.
    It happened so fast.
    My mother took the children.
    There was all these people with the little kids,
    and younger women with the kids, all with the children.
    They all went on one side.
    They were like pushed to one side.
    And we were pushed on the other side, the younger women.
    And all of a sudden, it was like in seconds, we
    were looking for my mother.
    We saw her already walking far away, like--
    I don't know, it's like something happened,
    just walking.
    And we said to my sister, my God,
    I wanted to say goodbye to my mother.
    I want to kiss my mother.
    I didn't get a chance.
    She just was pulled over in no time.
    And we looked, we looked, and we were walking already one way
    and she was walking the other way.
    It looked like they were walking in bunches,
    like they disappeared, like a shadow disappears.
    All of a sudden, we couldn't see nothing no more.
    So we said, what happened to those people?
    Where did they disappear so quick?
    I don't know where they disappeared.
    I really don't know.
    It felt like they fell into the ground.
    Just could see a little shadow and all of a sudden, nothing.
    And we was wondering.
    I said, where so fast?
    What happened?
    Where did they take him?
    And it was bothering me.
    I said, my God, I didn't even say goodbye.
    I didn't kiss my mother I didn't get a chance.
    Nobody.
    Not my brother, nothing.
    So there was the separation.
    And there was the end.
    And my sister started crying, why didn't I
    go with my children?
    Why did I give them to my mother?
    I should have gone with them?
    So I said to her, look, the man told you,
    you will see him in a week.
    They are staying with my mother.
    You know my mother will watch them.
    So we started walking.
    They took us away.
    Like I don't know, it was so fast.
    Everything was figured out so fast, we couldn't think.
    We didn't know what was going on.
    So we walked.
    They took us-- walked away.
    We walked.
    We came to a huge place after a while
    walking with all these bundles in our hands, dragging it.
    And we looked back to see, we can see anybody.
    We still can't see my mother or my brother.
    Nobody, no man, no more, like they just vanished.
    After we walked for a while, we got to a huge place.
    They told us to put everything down.
    There was like under a tent, or a hallway--
    I don't remember what it was--
    to leave all the bundles, to put all the bundles-- everybody
    should put everything down.
    We threw everything down.
    We walked across another, like a hallway, a long hallway.
    We saw there women and men sitting
    by tables, a few tables set up with chairs.
    We saw the people sitting there and waiting,
    starting to work on us.
    So everybody had to go over and undress.
    And they started shaving our heads,
    the hair off first and then all over the other places.
    They had a few like a future chairs set up, a few tables.
    And there was going like a factory work.
    After they finished--
    Were these prisoners who were doing this?
    Were these--
    Prisoners.
    I didn't know who they were.
    I had no idea.
    But I saw the people in the striped clothes.
    I had no idea.
    When we walked, as a matter of fact,
    when we got off the trains, I saw there SS, Germans.
    And I saw there, I didn't know who.
    It was Mengele.
    I didn't know who Mengele was.
    He was there selecting the people right by the station.
    The men on this side, and the women on this side.
    The children on this side.
    But who knew anything about it?
    I just found out after who Mengele was.
    After they finish shaving, we had to walk out
    everybody liked in a line.
    And we walked to a different department.
    Where they gave us some rags to put on.
    I remember I was getting a man's shirt.
    My sister got a man's jacket.
    My other sister, I don't know what she had.
    But we were like separated already.
    They didn't go-- where my sister was,
    I didn't know where she was.
    So after they finished, I didn't recognize myself.
    I looked at myself.
    I looked at people.
    I didn't recognize nobody.
    I looked to look where my sisters was.
    I couldn't see them.
    They were right behind me, but I couldn't see them.
    I didn't recognize them.
    They didn't recognize me.
    I didn't recognize them.
    I started crying.
    I started calling my sister.
    Sarah, Sarah, where are you.
    Rachel, Rachel, where are you?
    So they were calling me, and I was calling them.
    Because we looked like monkeys.
    Finally, after when we started calling one another,
    then we find one another.
    We saw-- you know, by the name.
    So when everybody was finished shaving and dressing up,
    they made different groups up.
    With all these thousands of people,
    they had different groups made up.
    When we were ready to be taken away--
    I don't remember one thing.
    If we had a shower when we get shaved or not.
    That I cannot remember.
    I'm trying to concentrate, but I cannot remember.
    I only remember giving these clothes walking, walking away.
    We walked for a while.
    And then after we walked around, we saw a big sign, Auschwitz.
    We didn't even know it was Auschwitz.
    Only before we got into the Lager
    was a sign, big sign, Auschwitz.
    We passed by a few Lagers.
    We didn't know what it was.
    We passed by a lot of barracks.
    We walked and walked and passed by one Lager,
    passed by another Lager.
    Finally, we got to C Lager, Lager C.
    And we walked till we got to one of the barracks.
    We got to Lager C, Barracks 16.
    When we got the front of the barracks,
    everybody stayed and waited.
    What's going to happen?
    What's going to be?
    We say stopped there.
    So we stayed there for a while.
    Finally, the door opened from the barrack, door opened.
    And we heard somebody saying, I am
    going to be your Lageralteste.
    I am in charge of your barrack.
    And my name is--
    I think I can mention the name--
    her name was Hanka.
    I am Hanka, and I'm going to be in charge of you.
    We walked in like it was by groups.
    We had to walk through to the Lager, to the barrack.
    The barrack had double bunkbeds, double bunks.
    It was squared double bunkbeds.
    We walked in by groups.
    And everybody had to take--
    she said, everybody had to take their place, one of the bunks.
    13 girls in one bunk.
    We had to be 13 women sitting on one bunk.
    So we want our families together.
    And by coincidence, we met our two cousins from Romania
    in the same group.
    They wound up in the same area where we were.
    I never knew my cousins.
    I never saw them.
    But my sister knew them.
    So I don't know how they came in the same day,
    and they wound up to be with us together.
    We were sitting in the same bunk.
    And a few other girls from Tésco what we knew,
    my sisters friends.
    So we were 13 on that bunk.
    And underneath the bunk, there were 13,
    underneath and on the top.
    By the time we walked in, we wound up on the top bunk.
    You had to climb up to the second row.
    And we round up all the way in the back in the barrack.
    When everybody was settled, everybody was there already.
    So this Hanka, she was Slovakian.
    She was already-- we didn't know who she was.
    She was there already for three years in the concentration
    camp.
    She was in charge of the people in the barrack.
    And she had some other girls helping her.
    She was so bitter that woman.
    She was screaming constantly.
    We didn't know why.
    She said things, yes, you are lucky people.
    I am here already three years and you just arrived.
    And you had it good up to now.
    And you don't know what it is.
    You will see, when you will be here for a while,
    you will feel what I felt. I said,
    what is she talking like this?
    I mean, we couldn't figure her out.
    That night, they gave us--
    I think when we arrived that evening,
    they gave us something to eat first.
    Everybody was handed a bowl of soup
    that night, because we got in that late afternoon.
    And one wooden bowl for the 13 girls.
    Everybody had to give one sip and pass it around.
    The soup was cut of bread with sand, full of sand and it.
    Who could swallow it?
    So when I took that in my mouth, I said to my sister,
    I can't swallow this.
    This is full of sand.
    This is going between my teeth.
    I cannot swallow this.
    So my sister said, well, you have to.
    You have no other choice.
    I said, I can't take this in of my mouth.
    So I just didn't take it.
    So they were going around.
    The girls, whoever could drink it were drinking it.
    Whoever couldn't, they didn't take it.
    So that night, middle of the night, all of a sudden--
    there was no room for nobody to lay down in those bunks.
    We were just sitting like this with the feet under us.
    You couldn't stretch out.
    You couldn't do nothing, because 13 in a square thing, 13 women.
    We tried to lay down, everybody's feet
    was on top of the head or everybody's head
    was on top of your feet.
    You couldn't lay down.
    You were pushing around and fighting.
    It was horrible.
    So we just were sitting up there.
    And I was crying to my sister, saying, I'm so tired.
    I just want to lay down.
    I want to sleep.
    So she said, try.
    I was the youngest one between the two of them.
    So she said, try to lay down, try.
    I said, I can't.
    I lay down, somebody kicks me.
    So all of a sudden, I had to go to the bathroom.
    So there was bathrooms in the back of the barracks.
    There was a regular like bathrooms outside.
    So we were allowed to go there outside to the bathroom.
    All of sudden, middle of the night, I had to go out.
    And so we hear screams, a lot of screaming outside,
    noises, screaming.
    We didn't know what was going on.
    And I walked to the door with my sister--
    I didn't go myself-- with my sisters.
    And I saw the smokes, like black smokes in the skies.
    We didn't know what it was.
    So we came back inside.
    So everybody was so frightened, so scared.
    We didn't know what the screaming is.
    So Hanka says to all of us, she says, do you hear that scream?
    Do you hear that shouting?
    Do you hear that noise?
    Do you see that smoke in the skies?
    They're burning your mothers and fathers
    and your little children in the crematoriums.
    That's all we had to hear.
    We said, gee, she's crazy.
    What kind of stories is she telling us?
    What is she lying?
    She must be crazy.
    She must be jealous because we just arrived and she's here
    for three years.
    How come she's telling us that story?
    We didn't want to believe it.
    We were there the following day--
    we didn't believe it.
    We didn't really know what was going on.
    The following morning, everybody was
    supposed to go outside in front of the barracks.
    We woke up 5 o'clock in the morning,
    woke us up, everybody outside.
    We went outside.
    Then I knew who Mengele was.
    Then I found out, Mengele and a woman Dreschel.
    I don't know if you heard about her,
    anybody mentioned the name Dreschel.
    She was the SS woman was Mengele.
    And I saw that we were standing outside.
    We had to line up.
    They told us to line up in 5 a line.
    And we had to line up.
    And then we saw this Mengele with Dreschel
    with the big dog walking around, walking up and down.
    Those lines were big.
    We were 1,000 girls in barrack, 1,000 girls.
    And they were walking around, up and down
    the lines with a big German shepherd.
    I didn't even know what a German shepherd was.
    And everybody standing and shivering.
    We didn't know who those people were.
    And we saw Mengele started pulling out women,
    pulling out here, pulling out this one, that one, started
    pulling out all the good looking women, and the other women--
    made selections, pulled out people.
    So we said, we didn't what--
    we didn't know nothing.
    We were standing in the line.
    And then after he pulled everybody people out
    he wanted to pull out.
    Pregnant women, he took away.
    If he saw somebody not capable for work, very, very weak,
    skinny looking, he pulled them out.
    Some women still had mothers, some people mothers
    came with their daughters were there.
    Pulled those people out.
    We didn't know.
    After everybody, those people were pulled separately,
    put away separate inside.
    We didn't know what was going on.
    We were standing for quite a bit in the line.
    And after everybody was--
    and they had their selections made,
    they counted the rest of the people.
    And it was quite a couple hours.
    Then we got back to the barracks.
    After that what, they gave us some black coffee.
    Also one bowl for the 11 girls in the bunk.
    Soon as they took some people away from the from the groups,
    they brought other people in.
    So the barrack was full all the time with people.
    After the first day, it was quite a few hours
    once we got in.
    Came at the end, dinner time.
    Hanka was telling her authorities, what's going on.
    We just didn't believe it.
    It's again at night.
    Again, we got that bowl of soup and the grass and the sand.
    I still couldn't take it out my mouth.
    And my sister started begging me, you want to survive.
    You have to take a few sips.
    I said, I can't.
    The sand is sticking between my teeth.
    I just can't take it.
    I cannot do it.
    She said, you will not survive if you don't take nothing.
    I said, I don't care, but I just cannot swallow.
    It is stuck in my throat.
    I tried to swallow it.
    It wouldn't go down.
    Again, that night we heard again the same screaming,
    crying, carrying on.
    And, again, Hanka says, you hear those screaming again.
    This is another transport.
    They're burning again the people, the other mothers,
    the mothers with the children in the crematoriums.
    We didn't pay attention to her anymore.
    We said, nah, she's just scaring us off.
    The second day we were there, you walked again.
    We had to go out of the barracks again.
    They said they're going to take us to showers
    the second day we were there.
    We were outside lining up outside.
    After a while, after we were counted,
    we started walking again.
    So Hanka said-- we didn't know--
    but Hanka said, they're going to take you to the showers.
    We started walking.
    We walked through the Lagers.
    And we walked.
    We saw a sign, Birkenau.
    We walked into that Lager.
    We got to walk through the Lager.
    We saw a big beautiful flower garden with flowers.
    And my sister said, look at these flowers.
    Isn't that beautiful?
    They even have flowers for us.
    So we walked again.
    And all of a sudden I hear music playing.
    Music was playing.
    But who paid attention?
    Nobody paid attention?
    I didn't pay attention to music.
    I didn't even look where the music was coming.
    But I just heard music playing.
    So my sister said, you hear the music?
    They have music playing.
    So after a while, we walked a little further.
    We saw that women in striped clothes and white kerchiefs
    playing the violin.
    Who paid attention?
    They played music.
    We came, we walked, we came to this huge building.
    And we saw the black smoke coming out from the chimney
    there.
    Smoke is coming out.
    Smoke is coming out.
    They took us into that--
    it was supposed to be the bathhouse.
    They took us into the big hallway, the big room.
    We got in there.
    It was a huge building.
    We all had to get in one room.
    We all had to get undressed.
    And they took us into a different room.
    The SS were standing right there in the hallways watching
    everybody passing by.
    We were all naked.
    I said to my sister, how can we walk naked in front of the SS.
    I'm ashamed.
    I'm embarrassed.
    How can they do that?
    So my sister-- nothing.
    She was in the same predicament.
    So we walked in the big, huge room.
    They had low benches on the floor across the room.
    They told everybody-- they told us-- this is huge room.
    It was 1,000 girls, 1,000 women.
    We sat down.
    And everybody had to sit down on those benches, low,
    on the floor, like one next to another,
    right across the whole room.
    We sat down there.
    And all of a sudden, I feel like water coming out
    from under the bench, under the floor.
    I said, where does the heat coming?
    From underneath from between the floors?
    How is that possible?
    And all of a sudden, we saw steam coming out steam.
    A lot of steam.
    And it got so steamed up, we couldn't see nobody.
    We started screaming we thought this is it.
    So I didn't see my sister--
    I started crying.
    I said, Rachel, Sarah, where are you?
    I can't see you?
    I'm choking.
    Everybody was choking, was coughing.
    It was like that was the end of us.
    It took for quite a few minutes.
    Everybody started screaming.
    They're going to kill us.
    They said, we're going to be dying.
    That's it.
    They're getting rid of us.
    It was a few minutes going and couldn't see nothing,
    couldn't see nobody.
    Then slowly this team started disappearing.
    So we were glad.
    I was happy the steam is starting disappearing.
    And then this just went away.
    And then we felt the water started
    dripping from the ceilings, water
    was starting dripping a little water.
    We were glad.
    I said, a little cold water.
    It started and it stopped.
    A few times, they started the water and they stopped.
    I said, they're fooling around with us.
    Something is going on here.
    So then finally, the water was coming down,
    and we got the showers.
    And it stopped, and we started walking out
    and walked into another steam room to dry up.
    So we were already happy that we were out of that room,
    that they're not going to kill us,
    because we were sure that's what they were going to do.
    We went into the steam room.
    We dried up.
    They gave us different clothes.
    Anything, whatever they got in their hands
    they threw us clean clothes.
    It was like the steam from the steam room.
    And everybody got their things to put on again.
    And we walked out again.
    We had to line up again outside.
    And we started walking back.
    When we saw that we got to the Lager 16, Block 16,
    in our Lager, we were relieved, because we were
    sure there was the end of us.
    This was going on--
    I was for two months in Auschwitz.
    And twice a week they took us to those showers.
    It seemed like they couldn't make up their minds what
    they want to do with us.
    Every time we were walking to the showers,
    they used to cut off-- the SS used to cut off from the lines
    people, here from the back or the front,
    cut off certain people, or dragging
    from the middle of the group.
    I used to run from one end to the other.
    And we never knew we had to stay.
    If we stand in the front, maybe they'll
    cut off people from the front.
    We stand in the back, maybe they'll
    cut the people from the back.
    If we go in the middle, maybe they'll take from the middle.
    We never knew.
    We used to run from one end to the other end.
    And one day and they were taking us to the showers,
    we said, no, we're going to stand in barrack.
    We're going to hide.
    We're not going to go no place, because maybe they're
    taking to the crematorium now.
    So we stayed in the barracks till the people
    gathered outside after we decided,
    no, it wouldn't be good.
    If they take the people to a different place,
    what's going to be with us.
    We better go with them.
    So we went out and stood in the group again.
    We couldn't hide anyhow.
    But we thought we could.
    And when we started walking-- we used
    to run away behind the different barracks to hide,
    because we knew they take them to the crematorium.
    We never knew which day is going to happen.
    So we ran hiding back in barrack.
    Then we decided to run back in the line, because we said,
    no, if they take the people to a different place
    and we still be left here, if they find us,
    they will kill us.
    What's going to be?
    So we went back always to the line.
    And we followed the rest of the people.
    And this was going on for two months.
    Twice a week they used to take us to the showers.
    Finally, after they made all their selections,
    every day, they do the same thing, the selections.
    We were lucky, they didn't take me
    and my sisters and my cousins.
    We always stayed in the same place.
    After two months, we were told to pack up--
    pack up with nothing to pack-- we are leaving Auschwitz.
    They're going to take us to working camps.
    We're going to have to stop at this point again.
    OK.
    OK.
    We continue our discussion with Pearl Gruenberg.
    Pearl, you were talking about your leaving Auschwitz
    and going to a labor camp at Unterluss, was it?
    Unterluss, yes.
    Did anything significant happen on the--
    Before we went to Unterluss, we got
    to a different camp in Auschwitz where they made the selections.
    So there was Mengele and a few other SS men, the dogs,
    walking around.
    And Mengele was doing the selection with another SS
    woman, and anybody they didn't--
    they pulled out the people who are not strong enough, who they
    didn't feel was ready for work.
    They pulled them out to one side.
    And the people who was for work, they put to another side.
    They pulled me out three times from the line
    for the left side, for the crematorium side.
    And my sister started to scream at me, run back, run back.
    And I said, how can I run back?
    I'm afraid.
    SS men will catch me.
    She said, just try.
    Run back.
    So I ran back once.
    Then I he came again in the line.
    He pulled me out again.
    And then I ran back again.
    The third time, I couldn't run.
    My sister came and just pulled me out.
    And the SS man noticed it.
    So he just walked over, and he gave a grin,
    and he just didn't say nothing.
    He left me there.
    So then when they separated the people for work,
    they pulled my sister, Rachel, away.
    Was she the one who ran out to you?
    She pulled me back, yes.
    And the SS woman noticed that.
    So then she took her away from my line.
    So she said, she's going to go to a different place to work.
    So my sister, my other sister, started begging her,
    please, leave us the three together.
    We want to stay together.
    So the SS woman says, you'll be together.
    You'll follow her in a week's time.
    You'll all be together at the same place working.
    So my sister started crying.
    And they were walking away from us.
    And they put them on trucks already.
    So she said, she was calling back to us,
    God knows if I will ever see you again.
    Excuse me.
    So after the truck was leaving, we started calling after her
    and telling her, we'll follow you.
    Soon, we'll see you in a week's time or so.
    So that was the end of her.
    She just was gone from us.
    The rest of us, who were picked up for work,
    they took us into an empty barrack.
    It looked like the camp was all deserted.
    The people were already gone from that camp.
    We stayed in that barrack all night long.
    It was a broken-down barrack, like the beds were all down.
    Everything was down.
    And whenever we walked in, there was an SS woman.
    She was 22 years old.
    Whoever walked in the barracks, she
    was hitting us with a rubber hose.
    Everybody passing by, she was hitting--
    whoever she came across.
    I remember passing her by.
    She hit me over my head with a rubber hose
    so badly that I just blacked out.
    She had no provocation for doing it?
    No, just for nothing-- no reason at all.
    She was hitting the people, whoever she came across.
    So when I came to myself, I started--
    I didn't know what happened.
    I started crying.
    I said to my sister, why did she hit me?
    I didn't do nothing.
    So my sister said, she doesn't need a reason.
    Everything will be all right.
    So we stayed in that barrack all night long,
    and the boards were down.
    Everything was like a mess.
    And we didn't know what's going to happen with us there.
    So she was walking around all night
    long hitting people and torturing people for no reason
    at all.
    So the night, we didn't know what's going to be.
    We thought that's the end of us there.
    They're going to just get rid of us.
    So finally, the night went through.
    We were sitting without water, without anything,
    all night long.
    Came the morning, so they told us to walk outside.
    We walked outside.
    So we were counted again and looked all over again.
    And we-- they gave us a number.
    We were 500, number 500, before we went to the working camp.
    After we were all counted, we walked a little further.
    We came to an empty field where the trucks were waiting for us
    to be taken to work.
    There was a few trucks, like, I don't know, three trucks,
    and we were all standing in the truck squashed together.
    And they took off.
    And they drove all through the bumpy roads, on the side roads.
    For a few hours, we were riding till we got to a wooded area
    before we got into Unterluss.
    They let us off before the woods.
    And then we all went off from the trucks.
    We crossed the woods, and there was
    a lot of guards waiting for us in the woods.
    Nobody should run away.
    Then we walked through the woods.
    We came to a huge place all fenced in with tall fences.
    We didn't know what it was.
    Then the gates opened, and we walked
    into the big, huge place, and they took us
    into a barrack number three.
    As we walked into the barracks, we got numbers for the beds,
    for our quarters.
    Everybody get a number for their quarters.
    They had like five beds in a row,
    and each quarter all across, and we had
    to be like 10 women in one row.
    And the five beds, with narrow beds,
    like this table let's say, and they
    had to straw underneath and a blanket,
    covered with a blanket.
    As soon as we walked there, we all took our places.
    We were handed out our clothes, working clothes,
    striped clothes-- white and-- not white--
    gray and blue striped clothes, dresses.
    And we got a blanket, a little pillow from straw,
    and a wooden bowl, and a spoon.
    That was our utilities.
    So everybody settled down.
    We slept two of us in one bed.
    We hardly had room just to lay down on one side,
    but we were happy.
    At least we had beds already to sleep.
    We had a blanket to cover.
    We didn't have to sleep on the floors.
    And everybody settled down.
    The officer then came into the barrack to look everybody over.
    And we had to be really very quiet,
    and everybody was very frightened.
    She was very mean.
    She was 22 years old, but she was
    the meanest person I ever saw.
    This was the same woman who beat you?
    Who took us from the work-- from the Auschwitz already.
    She was in charge of us.
    And we had-- they had selected two women from our people to be
    the lageralteste and two women who should be
    the blockalteste--
    inside in the lager, in the camp.
    Two young women, who were in charge
    of feeding us, and giving us the things out-- whatever.
    And the two older ones were in charge of the outside lager--
    everything.
    They were taking care of everything else.
    These were prisoners?
    They were the prisoners, yes.
    They were from Mukach.
    Two sisters were in charge of the lager was also from Mukach.
    And the two sisters who were in charge of the barrack inside
    were also from Mukach.
    They're all from Mukach.
    So the night, well, we were happy that night.
    It was a very late at night when we got there.
    It was already late.
    So we got something to eat.
    They had a potato soup with some meat in it,
    and we were very excited about it.
    Finally, we get something to eat.
    So everybody was handed out a little potato soup
    with some pieces of meat.
    There was already a gourmet food,
    because all these months we didn't have nothing.
    So there was already a big change.
    So the evening was over.
    Everybody had to go to lay down and to sleep.
    And so 5 o'clock when everybody already settled down,
    5 o'clock in the morning the whistles
    were blowing for everybody to get up.
    We didn't know what to expect.
    It was the first day we were there.
    So 5 o'clock, everybody got up quick.
    And we always only had the same dress on,
    a cotton dress, striped dress, and a pair of wooden shoes.
    That's all we had.
    Everybody had to go outside to stand Zahlappell.
    We were standing outside from 5:30.
    By the time we got the black coffee
    in the morning-- first, a little black coffee
    before we went outside.
    From 5:30 to 7 o'clock, every morning we were counted.
    She was calling everybody's name.
    Everybody had a number.
    Everybody's number was called, and everybody
    had to say, here, I'm here.
    And then everybody was checked out, everything since 7 o'clock
    in the morning.
    We took off.
    We didn't know where we were going.
    The trucks, we walked out from the gate
    and walked into the woods.
    Every time we went out and in, it
    was always through the woods.
    And at the end of the woods, there
    were the trucks waiting for us.
    We never saw anything else, but just
    the woods and the labor camp.
    The trucks were waiting.
    We were picked up by the trucks.
    We kept riding always on bumpy side roads.
    We never passed by any cities or any towns, nothing--
    always on the bumpy side roads.
    Did they want to keep you hidden?
    They wanted-- they didn't want anybody
    to know what's going on.
    They just did everything so nobody--
    the people shouldn't see what's going on.
    The civilians shouldn't realize.
    So we were riding for an hour or so, and then we had to walk.
    Another hour, we were walking until we
    came to a huge place, also a fenced-in place.
    And then they told us there was a factory, ammunition factory.
    The SS guards-- there was a lot of guards watching us--
    they separated us in different groups
    when we got to the factory.
    So then the civilian people came out
    and took us in different entrances to the factory--
    certain groups in different entrances.
    They had quite a few different entrances.
    And we got in there, we were assigned with the foremans.
    They had foremans, civilian foremans, assigned to work.
    I was just trying to do--
    there were machines that made the bombs.
    The little bottles, they looked like the bowling pins.
    And I was assigned to put--
    the machine was going and put the bottles on the machines.
    And everybody had a job.
    Everybody was assigned to something else.
    It was an assembly line?
    Assembly line, yes.
    And this was-- we were working one week day shift and one week
    night shift.
    Then when I finished the machine work,
    I had to go unload the big bottles.
    There were big bombs loading on the trucks outside.
    [? Rows ?] assembly, one hand to the other,
    and I had to throw them on the trucks.
    And there was the guards watching us, the SS men.
    And I was--
    I couldn't do it anymore.
    After the third day, after working for days,
    it was getting too much for me.
    I was felt weak and weaker every time I was doing it.
    Were you allowed to rest at any time?
    Were you ever given a break?
    Well, we had to keep going.
    Only when we rested when the air raid came.
    Every day was an air raid coming,
    and we had to run out to the woods.
    The woods was right next to the factory was the woods.
    And we had to run in and to hide.
    That was the time when we rested.
    And when everything was over, we went inside again.
    Now, the first day wasn't too bad we were doing this.
    Then we worked till 5 o'clock.
    At 5 o'clock, we went back home to the--
    it took us, again, two hours to get right to the barrack.
    We got there again.
    We walked again to the woods, and that's
    how we got to the gates.
    Nobody should see us.
    We got into the barracks again.
    It was 5 o'clock.
    So we all got our meals again, the little ladle of soup.
    That was our meal for the day.
    And they used to give us a small bread
    for five people for two days.
    And we had to cut up always.
    There was somebody in charge to cut up
    the bread in five portions.
    And everybody used to fight--
    one portion shouldn't be bigger than the other portion.
    So my sister used to cut the bread.
    And we used to be together with my two cousins.
    I had two cousins and two of my--
    and me, and my sister, and another person was with us.
    We were five together, like five people in the line.
    Every time they divided the bread, we used to fight.
    My cousin used to cut the bread, my sister used to fight.
    My sister used to cut the bread, my cousin used to fight.
    They were always afraid one portion
    is bigger than another portion.
    And we had to save some bread for the following day,
    because we didn't get nothing the following day.
    We had to save to take to work.
    By the time we get up in the morning,
    the bread used to be gone.
    Somebody stole a piece of bread.
    So the following day when we had to go to work,
    we had nothing to take with us, because the bread was stolen.
    So we worked all day, only a little coffee
    in the morning, and nothing all day.
    We worked in that factory for three months the same place.
    And we came to the night shift.
    I couldn't take it.
    I couldn't do it.
    I just collapsed.
    A few times, I collapsed by the machine.
    And the foreman saw that.
    So he took me and he gave me something else to do,
    like little polishing little brass covers for the bottles.
    He took me into a little room, and he told me to do--
    sit there and just to polish those little brass covers.
    The following time when I was working by the trucks,
    again, the SS was watching us there already.
    I was loading the bottles, and I just--
    each bottle I used to put on the truck, I used to cry,
    because I couldn't do it anymore.
    I was crying, and crying, but there was no way out for me.
    They were watching us.
    And one day, I just collapsed again.
    So the SS man went into the foreman
    and told him that I have to go.
    She's not capable to work anymore.
    She's got to go.
    So he knew already.
    The foreman knew if I have to go,
    he knew where I would wind up.
    They would take me away to the crematorium.
    So he told to the SS guard, I have something else
    for her to do.
    I need her.
    I have other things what she can do inside.
    So he was really my lifesaver.
    He had a little compassion himself,
    because, I don't know, he just--
    I was lucky, I guess.
    So he took me inside for a little--
    He was a civilian?
    He was a civilian.
    He was the foreman from the factory.
    So he took me inside to a little room, and he told me,
    you know what, just sit here in the little room
    till you're ready to go home.
    You don't have to do nothing.
    And this saved my life.
    When the time came, we went back home to the barracks again.
    So we got the same food again.
    We had a big washroom there, like quite a few sinks.
    And every day when we went home, we
    were able to wash ourselves-- wash our hands,
    take off our dresses, and rinse them out.
    Until the morning, we used to hang them
    on the edge of the bed to dry a little bit.
    And this was going on till November in the ammunition
    factory.
    And one day, one night when we came back from the factory we
    heard next morning that the factory was bombed.
    We couldn't go back no more.
    So we were glad the factory was bombed.
    We didn't have to go work in the factory anymore.
    So after that-- it was in the end of November--
    they took us to work on the construction,
    construction work some place on the farm.
    I don't know where it was.
    My job was loading the sand from the trucks--
    the cement, I'm sorry, and mixing the cement with my feet.
    It was cold already.
    In November, it was very cold.
    I had to mix.
    The cement came up to my knees, and I had to stand and dance
    in the cement.
    And I couldn't do it.
    I just was too weak.
    I couldn't.
    I had to dance in there.
    And in those area, the SS woman was standing on top of me.
    Each time I stopped, she was hitting me
    with the rubber hose over my head.
    And I just had to go on jumping around, and I was crying.
    Each time I lifted my foot, I was crying.
    I couldn't do it.
    I couldn't feel my legs anymore.
    I felt that my legs were coming off.
    But she didn't-- she was so mean, she didn't care.
    I was mixing it.
    I felt like the sand was pulling my skin off.
    I got full of blisters, and the skin was just
    coming off from my feet.
    And she was standing on top of me till I collapsed again.
    So she left me.
    She told somebody to come and pick me up.
    After they picked me up, I couldn't move.
    My legs were full of sores.
    The skin was coming off.
    I tried washing off my legs from the cement.
    Just the skin was all red, all bloody, and everything.
    I couldn't go on.
    So finally, the day was over.
    We went back to their barracks.
    And we were working on this construction
    work for four weeks.
    We broke up the roads, and we had to make new roads--
    labor work.
    And between working on the roads, we were like in a--
    close by was an empty field, like these ditches.
    We had to dig graves.
    We were digging graves.
    The girls, some girls, were working on the construction
    work and some were digging the graves.
    We were digging the graves.
    And everybody was saying, we probably
    are digging the graves for ourselves.
    When we're finished digging the graves,
    they'll throw us in the graves.
    They'll get rid of us.
    We didn't know what to expect.
    So I'm finished digging the graves.
    The day was over.
    Nothing happened.
    We were saved.
    So when the evening came again, we
    were glad to go back to the camp.
    We got back to the camp.
    The same thing-- we were given, again,
    the same ladle of potato soup.
    And she used to come those areas,
    and used to come in every night looking us over,
    seeing if everything was--
    everybody had to be so quiet.
    We were so frightened of her.
    Each time she came in, everybody was shivering and shaking,
    because she used to pass our beds
    and just hit everybody with no reason.
    She was very mean.
    I really cannot understand a young woman, 22 years old,
    how much hatred she had in herself.
    There was a Scharführer us too, but he never came
    into the barracks.
    He just told her what to do.
    She was in charge of the whole thing.
    Because I guess a man was a little bit more
    compassionate than a woman.
    I don't know.
    So this was, again, the following morning.
    I was called already outside.
    It was winter.
    It was raining.
    We had to stay again the following morning
    outside from 5:30 to 7 o'clock.
    The rain was coming down.
    It was hailing.
    It was already December.
    It was snowing.
    Our clothes used to get frozen--
    just used to stay away frozen stiff.
    And then by the winter, but December,
    we used to get a little flannel vest
    to put on under the dresses.
    And the people were called, they were freezing.
    So some of the women, we used to take
    pieces of stripes of the blankets,
    tear off, and wrap around us under the dresses
    to keep us a little warm.
    And when we stayed Zahlappell, this SS woman,
    she noticed anybody who had something under the dress.
    She came over.
    My sister had a piece of blanket, and I had to a piece.
    She wrapped a piece of blanket on me.
    She came over.
    She pulled my sister out from the line.
    She took her into the washroom.
    I never told this to nobody.
    She took her into the washroom.
    She started beating her.
    She hit her head again the sinks.
    She was bleeding.
    Her nose was broken.
    Her mouth was-- the teeth broke off.
    She hit her head so hard, and she was beating her,
    and she let the water run on top of her head
    while she was beating her.
    By the time my sister came out from there,
    she was all black and blue.
    She couldn't talk.
    She was near death.
    She was like almost gone.
    Then she did the same thing to another friend of my sister's.
    Anybody came out of the washroom was a miracle still alive.
    I don't know how they made it.
    Then one day-- my poor sister didn't even say nothing.
    She was-- she couldn't talk about it.
    And so one day, she took me out of the line.
    I was suspicious to her, too.
    She dragged me out of the line, and she pulled--
    I had a piece of blanket, and she pulled a piece of blanket
    off me.
    She didn't take me to the washroom.
    I was lucky.
    She just started beating me right in front of the people.
    And she threw me to the floor so my nose--
    I started gushing.
    The blood started gushing out from my nose,
    and from my mouth-- from all of over.
    So she told me to pick up the piece of blanket she tore off,
    take the piece of blanket, and wipe myself.
    So that's what I did.
    But my head was bothering me for days since then.
    So I was like--
    I didn't know what was going on.
    That was the last time I put a piece of blanket
    on me and my sister.
    We never did it again.
    So we had to go to work that day again.
    We were working in the field digging ditches.
    We had to dig the ditches out and cut trees down.
    It was winter.
    It was raining.
    It was pouring.
    It was hailing outside.