Читать книгу Creation Out of Nothingness - david Psy.D. wolgroch - Страница 5

Opening the book would confirm Mom’s death. Opening the book would confirm Mom’s death. There would be no return. I wished that I had never found it. I wished that someone would call. I wished and I wished.

The first page revealed itself almost effortlessly. Relieved I was to find this page empty. Its yellowed surface was coarse to the touch. With trembling fingers I slid this aside to reveal my first surprise.

There were no words. It was a sketch of a powerful robed figure with expansive wings protruding from its head. Only the back was drawn, giving it a mystical grandeur that overwhelmed me. I had seen this shape before, I thought. “Oh my God,” I said aloud,” This is a nun!” Mom had drawn the back of a nun such as is seen in remote convents of old Europe. Had Mom known this nun? It could only have been drawn from personal memory. What could she possibly have meant to my mother?

The sketch was unsigned except for the word “Elsass” written discreetly at the top of the page. Mom had been hidden in this area during the war; that much I knew. Germany had considered this area their rightful domain. It was also where Grandma was born. She later met Grandpa there and married.

Their tale was none less mysterious and adventurous than Mom’s was. Grandpa Moshe came from Vilna. There, he apparently led an uneventful life as a Jew until the German forces invaded during World War I. Desperately in need of new recruits for the war effort, the Germans forcibly conscripted eligible men from conquered territories. Men would be picked up in terrifying raids. Many would never be seen again. Grandpa skilfully managed to avoid these round-ups. Ironically he would suffer the same dreadful fate in Terezenstadt twenty years later.

His beloved brother, however, was not so lucky. He was picked up one night along with a group of unfortunate men to serve the German forces in a camp near the French battle line. The community was distraught with worry and anger. They might never see their loved one’s again.

So, my grandpa and several others devised a courageous plan to infiltrate German territory and dramatically liberate their brothers, fathers and neighbours. A meagre arsenal of guns and explosives was accumulated for the treacherous mission into northwest Germany. Upon arriving at the camp they discovered, to their dismay, that the forced labourers had been relocated to an undisclosed location along the French battle line.

They waited patiently for additional signs. They waited and waited until the war suddenly came to an end. Meanwhile Grandpa Moshe had begun to enjoy life in Germany. Being a “wireless” technician, his skills were in great demand. He had accepted German life but refused to accept German allegiance. Therefore, he remained in Germany as a ‘non-national’.

At some point Elizabeth came into his life. Their passionate love proved strong enough to overcome many obstacles in their relationship. Firstly, Elizabeth was not Jewish. She was also un-married but with a child. Grandma agreed to convert in the strict orthodox Jewish tradition in order to marry Grandpa. This meant that she had to cut all ties with her family and the Gentile community. This also meant that she needed to relinquish her child, Friedchen. Little did she realise then how these forbidden ties would help her survive the Nazi persecution to come.

Shortly after the Nazis came to power, Grandpa was incarcerated in Terezenstadt. Mom’s older sister, Ruth, was soon afterwards taken to Auschwitz. Grandma quickly arranged shelter for her five-year-old daughter before the same fate would meet her. She was taken to a trusted Christian family in rural Germany. This, of course, was my Mom. She was carefully instructed to claim to be a Christian girl seeking shelter from the allied bombardment of the city.

Grandma disappeared for long periods of time, leaving Mom to believe her dead. She would, however, re-appear after several months bearing gifts of food for Mom and her carers. Grandma probably endured the war as a Christian, no doubt. Despite this, she was repeatedly interrogated and beaten by the Gestapo. Never was Mom’s existence revealed. It would mean certain death for her.

Only after the war was the family re-united. Surprisingly, Grandpa had survived Terezenstadt. His skills as an engineer proved invaluable to the Germans. He was, therefore, worth keeping alive. Aunt Ruth also miraculously survived Auschwitz. Grandma collected her family and began the difficult task of re-building their lives together. Shortly after the war a third child was born. This was to be my Aunt Doris.

Despite Grandma’s efforts, Ruth and Mom would have none of Germany. They wanted a new life far from the hateful communities of Europe. They found more in common with the collection of displaced persons in Bergen-Belsen. There, everyone was hoping to obtain visas out of Europe and into the New World free of Nazi memories, anti-Semitism and war. From this D.P.camp both Mom and Ruth would later immigrate to the U.S. leaving Grandpa, Grandma and their younger sister, Doris, behind.

Dad had come to Bergen-Belsen from another Displaced Persons camp in southern Italy. The warm Italian climate and the generosity of its people provided a nurturing environment after five years of Nazi torment. Believing he had been the sole survivor of his family, Dad had planned to join the few illegal immigrants into Palestine. His days were spent lazily along the warm Italian coast filled with romance and fantasies of a future in a new land. Sometimes he would torment imprisoned German troops, just for fun. He and his buddies would strive to relive this adventurous period in Barre, Italy in the years to come.

The American troops were especially friendly towards the survivors. They were his liberators. Dad distinctly recalled how the Americans had entered Abensee (a sub-camp of Mathausen) in May 1945. Shortly before their arrival, the Ukrainian guard seemed unusually preoccupied and tense. He hastily closed all of the shutters while attempting to club to death the remaining lives in the crowded barracks - where Dad was awaiting death. Fortunately, he was lying on a top bunk and out of reach. He had also been protected from the Ukrainian’s fierce blows by the two dead bodies that had been lying with him for several days in order to receive extra rations of food.

Suddenly the Ukrainian disappeared. There were sounds of panic outside. Pushing the dead bodies aside Dad could peak through a crack in the shutter. “What do you see, Chaim?” someone shouted. “There are no guards,” he replied. “It’s a group of scouts…. with guns,” he reported with astonishment. Someone mentioned that he had once seen a photograph of the American troops. They weren’t like real soldiers, but wore scout uniforms.

They waited and waited until the doors of the death chamber burst open. The liberating Americans faced them in shock and horror. They simply stood motionless, covering their noses from the stench, vomiting and crying. Dad couldn’t understand this strange reaction. “Why don’t they take us from here?” he wondered. “Why don’t they bring us food? What manner of liberators are these?”

In Italy, he had met an American soldier from New York - who managed a broken Yiddish. He and his friend, Yonkel, were invited to the American’s tent for a drink. The soldier reached down under his cot and pulled out a case of warm Coca-Cola. They exploded with a fizz upon opening. Amazingly the soldier gulped down his drink without batting an eyelid. He then handed Dad and his friend a bottle. Dad was impressed. He had never seen carbonated drinks before. These Americans, he thought, handle their vodka even better than the Russians that he had met. He attempted to meet the American’s challenge but surrendered to the drink’s harsh swallow after two gulps. Naively, he felt intoxicated.

The Americans were so amused by Dad’s reaction that they offered him an American uniform to wear. He was also given a pass permitting free entrance to any American camp.

One fateful day news arrived that Dad’s sister, Esther, was alive and well in a D.P.camp in Germany. Plans to immigrate into Palestine were abandoned as Dad made his way to Bergen-Belsen to re-unite with his only living relative.

In Bergen-Belsen he joined the Jewish Police force. The British hosts had established an infrastructure of self-government within the camp. For some this allowed for a lucrative trade in the black market.

Eventually Dad met Mom. He fell in love with this frightened, sickly young girl and vowed to be her protector, her provider and her partner for life. They married in the camp along with hundreds of other young couples anxious to re-build their lives and leave the horrible blackness of the war behind. Together they managed to obtain visas for entry into the United States. It would be a new beginning in a new world of opportunity. They had survived.